Helpless
by chocolateblood
Summary: Physically-challenged Trunks is determined to get his life back to normal at all costs. But the hired temp ruins his plans for good. COMPLETE
1. Trying to Fly

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless  
  
Chapter 1 - Trying to Fly  
  
If there was one thing Trunks Briefs hated, it was being cooped up in the rain. It rained a lot in the Northwest. It was raining now, slanting sideways across the Zodiac River and almost obliterating the houses tucked in between the fir trees on the hills. Normally, on a day like this, Trunks would either be at the office or taking off somewhere in his red Porsche. There was always somewhere better to be than the river on a wet day. In fact, it was probably one of the worst days Trunks could remember in his twenty-nine years.  
  
He shifted carefully on the couch and reached for the phone. The call had to be made and he wasn't looking forward to making it. There was just no point in pushing it off any longer. Scowling, he punched out the number, and then jammed the receiver to his ear.  
  
Across town the phone rang in the plush office of Capsule Corporation. The line clicked open, and the low vibrant voice of his secretary answered.  
  
Paresu Son had the kind of looks that belonged on the cover of a girlie magazine. She had rich, chocolate-colored hair, sparkling brown eyes and a body that could turn a man's head a hundred and eighty degrees. She was happily married to a stockbroker and her dependability, common sense and intelligence far surpassed any of Trunks' former secretaries.  
  
He not only relied on Paresu, he genuinely liked her. He felt safe with her, secure in the knowledge that she had no designs on his money or his body. The same couldn't be said of his former secretaries.  
  
He'd fired more women than he cared to count because of their determined efforts to seduce him. Being single and a successful architect, he'd discovered, instantly translated into highly desirable.  
  
Women, it appeared, did not recognize the existence of a confirmed bachelor. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that as far as most of the women he met were concerned, his healthy bank account mattered more than his buns.  
  
"It's me," he muttered in answer to Paresu's polite query. "I'm on the houseboat."  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"Yes, something is wrong." Her concern was somewhat comforting. She was probably the only person in the world who genuinely cared what happened to him. He liked to think it wasn't solely because of her considerable paycheck.  
  
"You had a bad weekend?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"I thought you were going skiing."  
  
"I did. That's what's wrong."  
  
He heard the little catch in her throat. "Trunks, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?"  
  
"Just a little." He stared grimly at the padding of white plaster covering his right foot. "Enough to put me out of action for a little while."  
  
This time the pause was more prolonged. "How long?"  
  
"At least a month, give or take a week."  
  
"What in heaven's name did you do?"  
  
"I tried my damnedest to fly. Ended up with a broken ankle."  
  
Oh, Trunks, no. How did you get to the houseboat?"  
  
"Ambulance and cab."  
  
"Do you want me to drive you down to the house?"  
  
"No, I need to be close to the office. I can't take a whole month off and I don't want to hobble around the office like this. I'll need to work at home. Since I can't drive and it would take too long to have someone drive all the way to the beach just to drop stuff off, this makes ore sense. Anyway, in a small place. I won't have to move around so much. Everything is much closer together in here." Too close, he silently added. One cramped living area, a tiny kitchen, a bedroom that was smaller than his walk-in closet at the house, and a bathroom that made getting out of his clothes a unique and sometimes painful experience - he had to be out of his mind to think he could last a month in a house smaller than a bread box.  
  
He'd bought the River Rat for a pittance, which was all it was worth considering its rapid state of decay. He'd planned on renovating it and selling it for a significant profit. Meanwhile, the houseboat had been somewhere to crash when he was too tired to drive to his house at the beach. Little did he imagine that he'd be spending an entire month on the damned wreck.  
  
"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in a hotel suite?" Paresu asked, her voice heavy with doubt.  
  
"Definitely. But hotels are noisy, inconvenient and public. I don't want anyone seeing me hobbling around like this." He could just imagine some of his female acquaintances jumping at the chance to take advantage of his vulnerability.  
  
Paresu sighed into the phone. "All right. What do you want me to bring you?"  
  
"A new ankle."  
  
"Trunks, be sensible. How are you going to manage? Will Mrs. Clean be able to help you?"  
  
Mrs. Clean comes to the house a couple of times a week to dust, vacuum, do the laundry and cook the only home-cooked meals I eat all week. She doesn't know this place exists. She'd go into cardiac arrest if she saw it. Besides, I can't see her driving an hour and a half into town."  
  
"How about a temporary housekeeper?"  
  
He tried to hold down his irritation. "I don't need someone to clean house, Paresu. I'm going to be stuck here for at least four weeks. I suppose I'll be able to work from here, but I'll need someone close at hand. a gopher. Preferably someone who knows how to use a laptop. You'll have your hands full keeping things under control there. You'd better get me a temp.  
  
"All right, I'll take care of it right away."  
  
He gave her a list of projects he wanted her to bring over, then hung up. He wished he could have stipulated that she send a male temp. He knew what she'd say to that. He could just hear her voice rising.  
  
Trunks, dear, it's very difficult to find a male temp. In any case, that's discrimination, and a federal offense. We don't want to be in trouble with the law now, do we?  
  
Sometimes, Trunks thought irritably, Paresu could sound very much like a mothering hen. He shifted the lump of concrete that used to be his foot to a more comfortable position. Well, he'd just have to be on guard even more than usual. One hint that the temp wanted to get personal and she'd be off his boat so fast she wouldn't have time to blink.  
  
Trunks shook his head in disbelief. Four miserable weeks stuck inside this peanut shell on floats. It didn't bear thinking about. He hoped his personal gopher had a sense of humor and the temperament of a saint. He had a nasty feeling he wasn't going to be very good company for a while.  
+++  
  
So, what do you think about it? Question and comments are very much welcome. :) 


	2. Enter: The Temp

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 2  
  
Enter: The Temp  
  
Marron Chestnut peered through the rain-washed windshield and wished she'd put new wipers on the car. Actually, she'd promised herself she wouldn't spend another penny on the old clunker. Instead, she was saving frantically to buy a reliable used model with good mileage.  
  
She'd never been down to this part of the river, and the road was difficult to follow. It was more like a mountain trail than a road. She could hear the crunch of the tires on the gravel and winced. That would probably take care of what little tread she had left on them.  
  
The branches of a willow brushed along her window, making her jump. Although it was late March, the heavy clouds made the day as dark as the middle of December. Ahead of her rain slanted across the road, obscuring whatever lay in her path. She had to be close to the water, she thought worriedly. She only hoped she wouldn't drive smack into the river.  
  
A splash of blue up front alerted her. She'd been told to watch for a bright blue mailbox, and there it was, adding a dash of color to the drooping shrubs and the wet grass. She parked gingerly beside the mailbox, then peered through the windows in the direction of the river.  
  
A dark shape loomed up out of the gloom. She couldn't help a little spasm of excitement. She'd never been on a houseboat before. Actually, she thought, it all sounded rather romantic. She could just imagine herself lying in bed at night, gently rocking, and listening to the river lap against the hull. Not hat she was likely to spend a night on this one, she hastily reminded herself.  
  
Climbing out of the car, she winced as rain dripped down the inside of her windbreaker. Mrs. Morris, the dour, no-nonsense supervisor at the Guardian Angels Agency, had given her terse instructions about her assignment.  
  
A month's contract, involving the general office work, most of it on computer, and running errands for someone called Trunks Briefs. That was all. Do not work overtime; do not volunteer to do extra work. Keep careful check of her hours, and send in her reports every Wednesday.  
  
Marron was told nothing about Mr. Briefs, other than he had broken his ankle and needed assistance with his office work. She was not a nurse, Mrs. Morris had unnecessarily reminded her, and neither was she a housekeeper. She was to accept only those assignments that fell into the category of general office work or essential errands.  
  
Marron found the woman a little intimidating. She hoped Trunks Briefs turned out to be a little more agreeable. Hooking her purse over her shoulder, she turned her jacket collar up over her ears and tramped down the path toward the murky river.  
  
She found the houseboat somewhat of a disappointment. Not at all what she'd fondly had in mind. Badly in need of a coat of paint, it looked little more than a rundown shack on a raft. A rickety veranda ran around the corner in each direction, and a faded checkered curtain covered the one window she could see.  
  
The whole place creaked and groaned like an exhausted old man on his deathbed. Shivering at the macabre thought, Marron stepped along the wide ramp that led to the doorway. Look on the bright side, she told herself. The job promised to be interesting, and a welcome change from the last assignment in a crowded, sturdy office in the heart of downtown Pisces.  
  
Behind her, the wind rustled the pine needles and slapped little rivulets of water among the swirling grasses at the river's edge. The mist was so thick she could barely make out the sullen hills beyond the opposite shore. Strange how different the river could look in the rain, she thought. It had seemed so tranquil and pretty in the sunlight.  
  
The door of the houseboat appeared to have no bell. She pounded on the worn woodwork, listening to the wind whistling around the dilapidated walls. There was another, more modern-looking houseboat moored farther down. The bend in the river and the overhanging shrubbery hid anything else from view.  
  
In the opposite direction lay the city, but it was too dark and hazy to see more than vague shapes in the mist. For a second or two, Marron felt a little apprehensive. She banished her qualms by pounding on the door again.  
  
In the eerie silence that followed, She heard ducks quacking somewhere in the distance. The damp wind found its way down her neck and she shivered. Once more she hammered on the door, wondering if she had the right house. This time she heard a faint bellow from within.  
  
"It's open, dammit. Come on in."  
  
With a guilty start, Marron turned the handle. She'd forgotten about the broken handle. The poor man was probably bedridden.  
  
The door opened onto a small kitchen, with a door leading off to the right. It wasn't much warmer inside the houseboat. A damp, musty odor, blending with the smell of burnt food, wrinkled her nose.  
  
Dishes and glasses filled the sink, and packages of all shapes and sizes covered every available space on the narrow counter. A saucepan half filled with muddy-looking soup sat on the stove, and a slice of burned toast rested on a chipped plate against the remains of scorched scrambled eggs.  
  
Shuddering, Marron felt her spirits sag. Wondering what she was walking into, she stepped over a pile of old newspapers and carefully pushed open the door.  
  
A man, propped up by sagging pillows, sat bolt upright on an ancient, beaten-up couch. One foot, heavily encased in plaster, was propped up on a torn leather ottoman. He wore a shabby tartan robe with a blanket tucked over his lap, and he stared expectantly at her as she ventured into the cluttered room.  
  
"Who're you?" He demanded, slurring his words in a deep grating voice. "The temp, I hope? About damn time, that's all I can say."  
  
Marron cast an uneasy glance at the half-empty brandy bottle waving about in his hand. She hoped he hadn't consumed the other half at that hour in the morning. Mrs. Morris would be shocked if she knew her latest client was a drunk.  
  
"It's only a little after nine," she said briskly. "I had a little trouble finding the place. You are Mr. Briefs, I presume?"  
  
"Damn right I am." He narrowed blue eyes at her. "Can you type?"  
  
A hundred words a minute with ninety-mine percent accuracy."  
  
"Know your way around a computer?"  
  
"Both Windows and DOS."  
  
"Hummph."  
  
He studied her a moment longer, making her feel extremely self-conscious. Judging from the amount of bare chest she could see behind the gaping folds of his robe, it appeared that Mr. Briefs had not yet dressed for the day.  
  
His lilac hair tumbled in an unruly mess over his forehead. She wondered if he could shower with a cast on his foot. Probably not. He would have to use the tub.  
  
"How are you at rubbing backs?" he demanded, startling her out of her thoughts. Before she could answer however, his expression suddenly changed, becoming mournful. "I can't find my damn painkillers." He waved the bottle at her, sloshing the contents violently around it. "Have been drinking brandy to kill the pain."  
  
"So I can see." Deciding to take the initiative, Marron stepped forward and took the bottle out of his unresisting hand. It wouldn't hurt to lay down some ground rules, she thought. "It's very bad for you to be drinking on an empty stomach," she announced, remembering the scorched eggs.  
  
Trunks nodded his agreement. "Very bad to be in pain too. Damn bad, as a matter of fact. I just wish I could find my pills."  
  
"I'll find them for you. Where's the bathroom?"  
  
"Over there." Her client waved an arm vaguely in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. "Through the bedroom."  
  
Deciding to get rid of the brandy first, Marron took the bottle out into the kitchen and found a spot on the counter for it.  
  
"You're going the wrong way!" Trunks bellowed.  
  
Marron winced. Returning to the living room, she fixed the invalid with baleful glare. "I'm not deaf, Mr. Briefs. I was simply putting the brandy away. When you address me in the future, I'd appreciate it if you'd do so in a more reasonable tone of voice."  
  
He blinked, and then leaned unsteadily forward, squinting his eyes at her. "You know, you're a damn good-looking woman."  
  
That settled it, Marron thought. The man was definitely drunk. She had no illusions whatsoever about her looks. Her nose was too small, her eyes were too pale blue, did nothing for her complexion.  
  
As for her pale blond hair, no matter what miracle products she was tempted to use she could manage nothing than a limp, lifeless shin-length bob. The one time she'd attempted a perm she'd spent six miserable months waiting for the frizz to grow out.  
  
Even if she'd been able to ignore her brothers' teasing about being the ugly duckling in a family of beauties, her mirror revealed the inescapable truth. Marron Chestnut was plain, a little over-weight and would always walk in her glamorous sisters' shadows.  
  
Nevertheless, she blushed at Trunks' compliment. She didn't get that many. "Thank you," she murmured, doing her best to avoid looking at the gaping opening in his robe.  
  
"Too bad you have such a prissy voice. What are you, a school teacher?"  
  
Marron's cheeks burned. "My name is Marron Chestnut, and I am the temp you requested, here to assist you with your office work."  
  
"Well-" He tipped forward, but he managed to check his downward momentum and struggled to an upright position again.  
  
With an obvious effort at maintaining some dignity, he said carefully, "Well, Marron Chestnut, I suggest you lose that schoolmarm dis. dis. disposition." He stopped, frowning in a bewildered way. "What was I going to say?"  
  
Marron tightened her mouth. "I'll look for your painkillers. Please don't move until I get back. I don't think I could lift you back onto that couch if you fell off it."  
  
Trunks stared at her, and then burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. "That's rich," he spluttered as she picked her way through the debris of books, papers and files that littered the floor. "'Don't move' she says. I wish to hell I could move."  
  
Ignoring him, Marron opened the door and peered inside. A double bed, covered partway by a colorful, rumpled patchwork quilt, took up most of the room. The window, draped in matching fabric, looked out the mist- enshrouded river to the opposite shore. Clothes lay scattered all over the tumbled sheets.  
  
Apparently Mr. Briefs managed to get himself in and out of the bed, Marron reflected as she edged past the foot to what she assumed was the door to the bathroom. Upon opening it, however, she was in doubt as to whether anyone could call the space inside an actual room. It was more like a broom cupboard with a tub, sink and toilet together inside.  
  
A pile of clothes topped with a pair of boots covered most of the floor space. Marron shook her head. How anyone managed to live in such messy, confined surroundings she had no idea. She was fast losing her fantasies about owning a houseboat.  
  
A loud bellow from the living room made her jump. Hastily she looked around the miniscule bathroom. The medicine cabinet had a cracked mirror, and two narrow glass shelves, both of which were empty. There were no pill bottles lying on the sink, or on the toilet tank, and there was nowhere else to hide them.  
  
Marron bent over and started picking up her clothes. They felt damp to the touch, and she dropped them into the grimy tub with a shudder. Underneath a pair of jeans, she discovered the bottle of prescribed painkillers.  
  
At least she'd found them, she thought as she closed the door on the bedroom. The problem was, she probably shouldn't give the medication to the patient- not with all that booze in him. He'd just have to wait a few hours. She wasn't looking forward to explaining that to him.  
  
A loud snore greeted her as she walked back into the living room. Her client sat where she'd left him, except now his chin was resting on his chest, and he was tipped forward at an alarming angle.  
  
Hurrying forward, Marron decided that sleep would be the best thing for him, until the effects of the alcohol wore off. If she could just get him into a more comfortable position, he might stay that way for an hour or two, and give her time to clean up the deplorable mess around the house.  
  
Mrs. Morris' explicit instructions echoed in her mind. Ignoring the little voice that warned she was breaking all the rules, Marron took hold of Trunks' broad shoulders and eased him sideways until his head lay flat on the seat.  
  
Now that he was sleeping, she couldn't help noticing that her new employer was a good-looking man. Straight nose, firm jaw and what she liked to call a poetic mouth - sensitive and sensual. Embarrassed by her unexpected appraisal, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.  
  
Gingerly, she lifted the bandaged foot and propped it over the arm of the couch. Then, taking care to keep his lap covered with the blanket she pulled his other leg up to join the uninjured one, rolling him onto his back. So far, so good. Except he looked kind of scrunched up in the middle, and his head needed to be raised.  
  
Reaching behind the sleeping man, she tugged at the cushions jammed behind his back. She let out a startled shriek when without warning he clamped his arms around her back and pulled her down on top of him.  
  
"Cold," he mumbled. "Come down here and keep me warm."  
  
+++  
  
Darn, I thought I could get away with not revealing the temp for a while. I didn't know you lot were mind readers! (Or maybe I've already declared my undying support for T/M somewhere. Just like marron12 says, "TM4eva!")  
  
I really appreciate it that you like the fics and want me to hurry up but I can only type so much! :) But don't worry, I always finish the things that I've started. 


	3. Trying not to Fall

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 3  
  
Trying not to fall  
  
"Mr. Briefs!" Maron's attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. She struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.  
  
Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, "I'll get the comforter from the bed."  
  
His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.  
  
Felling more than a little flustered, Marron marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Trunks, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.  
  
Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn't move, and after a moment's hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.  
  
Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.  
  
An hour later, she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best as she could with the frayed string mop she'd found propped up outside on the veranda.  
  
The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective within the confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.  
  
Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, and then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.  
  
After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from the office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew an expensive piece of equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.  
  
She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Trunks' ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.  
  
"Am I still dreaming," he asked pleasantly, "or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?"  
  
Clutching the computer to her chest, Marron scrambled to her feet. "I hope you're feeling better, Mr. Briefs."  
  
"Trunks. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I'll live. Now, who are you?"  
  
Marron put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. "Marron Chestnut. I'm the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were. not feeling very well. You probably don't remember."  
  
She stood in awkward silence while Trunks studied her face with narrowed eyes. "I guess I wasn't dreaming then," he said at last.  
  
"Actually, you were rather drunk. Trying to replace your painkillers with brandy."  
  
He managed a grim smile. "That I do remember. Things got rather vague. I seem to-" He stopped short, and sent her another penetrating look. "Did I make a pass at you?"  
  
"Not exactly. I believe you were simply trying to get warm."  
  
He nodded obviously relieved. "I wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot."  
  
"Neither would I." Marron said emphatically.  
  
Trunks closed his eyes as a spasm of pain crossed his face. "Seeing as I only have one good foot, that is," he muttered.  
  
"Oh, wait, I found your painkillers." She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the counter. After running some cold water into a mug, she carried it back to the living room. "I guess it's okay to take them now. I mean, after drinking all that alcohol."  
  
"I didn't drink that much," Trunks said, taking the bottle from her. He shook two capsules into his hand and tossed them into his mouth.  
  
Marron handed him the mug and waited for him to swallow the pills. He looked a little pale, and she wondered if it was the pain in his ankle or the headache from the alcohol affecting him. "When did you last eat?" she asked abruptly.  
  
He looked startled by the question. "Sometime last night, I guess. I tried scrambling some eggs this morning, but I had to sit down again and left them on too long. Where did you find the pills?"  
  
"In the bathroom, underneath a pile of damp clothes."  
  
"Oh, those." A look of embarrassment flitted across his face. "I threw them down there when I got home from the hospital yesterday. I apologize for the state of this place. I know it's a mess but." His voice trailed off as he looked around the room. "Well, I can see you've been busy. Did you perform the same miracle in the kitchen?"  
  
"And the bedroom and bathroom." Marron said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Now all we have to do is to get you clean and fed and-"  
  
"Wait a minute." He raised a hand as if to ward off any attempt by her to touch him. "Hold on one minute. I'm not moving off this couch. Not for you, not even for the president of the UN. I tried that this morning and I can tell you with absolute authority that the slightest movement of this ankle can cause unbearable, debilitating agony."  
  
Marron lifted her chin and fixed him with the same stare she'd used on all five of her younger brothers and sisters when they balked at her commands. "You have to go to the bathroom sooner or later," she said smugly.  
  
Trunks' brows raised a half-inch. Before he could answer, she added. "Since your ankle is going to hurt, you might as well get it over in one go. You'll be surprised how much better you'll feel once you are showered and dressed."  
  
He seemed to be having trouble answering her. After a moment or two of spluttering, he muttered. "I asked for an office temp, not a nurse."  
  
Marron shrugged. "I'm not a nurse. Not qualified, that is, but I've lots of experience in taking care of injuries. My youngest brother broke his arm three times, and one of my sisters dislocated her shoulder, and then there was the time Nuez fell out of the tree and broke his wrist."  
  
Her client looked bewildered. "Nuez?"  
  
"My oldest brother."  
  
"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"  
  
"Five." She reeled off their names. "And I'm the eldest. I took care of all of them when they were growing up since both my parents worked and." She let her voice trail off, disturbed by the stricken look on Trunks' face.  
  
"What's the matter?" She said quickly. "Are you hurting?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, as a matter of fact the pain is easing, thanks to the pills."  
  
"You're not dizzy, are you? I hope I didn't give you the pills too soon." Without thinking she stretched out a hand to feel his forehead, but he jerked back, avoiding her touch.  
  
"I'm fine. But I think I need to go to the bathroom." He started to remove the comforter, and she moved closer, ready to help him up.  
  
Immediately he dropped the corner of the quilt and stared up at her. "I think I can manage this one on my own."  
  
"I don't see how you can manage anything in that tiny bathroom." Marron reached for the crutches and held them out to him. "It must be quite a challenge, living in such cramped quarters."  
  
"I don't live here." Trunks struggled to lower his injured foot to the ground. "I live in a house at the beach with a master bathroom bigger than this entire miserable tub." His words ended in a grunt of pain as he tried to stand.  
  
"Of course you do, if you say so." The poor man was fantasizing. She was beginning to worry that the combination of pills and booze had seriously affected his mind. Grabbing hold of his arm, she tried to steady him. "Lean on me, if it will help. I'm stronger than I look."  
  
He stared at her, clutching the quilt to his chest as if his life depended on his hanging on to it. "You really think I live here?"  
  
She nodded, feeling a stab of sympathy for him. "Yes, I'm afraid you do."  
  
"You don't know who I am?"  
  
"You're Trunks Briefs," Marron said soothingly. "Don't worry, it will all come back to you once the effort of the medication wears off."  
  
Trunks nodded slowly, as if he didn't quite understand what she was saying. "And you've never heard of Capsule Corporation?"  
  
Marron shook her head. "I haven't been here long. Three weeks actually. I don't know much about the city. What kind of company is Capsule Corporation? Is that who you work for?  
  
She felt uneasy as she watched a strange expression creep over his face. He stared at her for several seconds without uttering a sound. Just as she was about to ask him if he needed to sit down again, he said softly, "Yes, that's who I work for. Capsule Corporation. I'm a draftsman there."  
  
Marron beamed in relief. "You see? I told you it would all come back. Now, you'll need to let go of that quilt if you're going to use these crutches."  
  
She looked discretely away while Trunks dropped the quilt and adjusted his robe. "Thank you," he muttered as he took the crutches from her. "Now, if you'll excuse me."  
  
"Are you sure you don't want my help?"  
  
"I'm sure. I'm getting real good at this."  
  
She watched anxiously as he swung his long, lean body around the couch and started for the door. Unfortunately, one of the crutches got hooked in the braided rug and before she could do anything to prevent it, he stumbled, toppled over and, with an explosive curse, landed smack on the floor.  
  
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I had a really good laugh while reading your reviews. You thought that there was gonna be some action here, didn't you? Well, not yet. maybe. Hehehe  
  
Marron is a little overweight here because I thought that a little variation from her usual perfect self would be nice. Besides, she's a great cook here. :) 


	4. Rubber duckie's magic

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 4  
  
Rubber duckie's magic  
  
"Now look what you've done! Are you all right?" Marron leaped toward her employer who lay quite still, sprawled inelegantly on his stomach.  
  
"No," his muffled voice answered carefully. "I am not all right. Not only am I in considerable pain, I am apparently unable to manage something as fundamental as reaching the bathroom. I am also finding it a little difficult to hold an intelligent conversation with my nose buried in this rug, which smells of used cat litter, by the way."  
  
"Here, let me help you." Marron grasped his shoulder with the intention of rolling him onto his back.  
  
Trunks, however, seemed to have a violent objection to being touched. Shaking off her hold, he struggled into a sitting position and looked balefully up at her. "Just give me a minute. I'll manage."  
  
There was only one course of action, as far as Marron was concerned. When someone behaved like a child, he deserved to be treated like one.  
  
Folding her arms, she adopted a tone that had always worked well for her in the past. "Mr. Briefs, I'm not here for the fun of it. I'm supposed to help you, and you are making it very difficult for me to do my job."  
  
"I apologize for that, Miss. whatever your name is- "  
  
"Chestnut."  
  
"Thank you. I'll try not to forget again. However, I assure you I can manage to get myself to the bathroom. I manage to get myself to the bathroom. I managed it quite well before you got here."  
  
"You don't seem to be doing such a good job of it now," Marron calmly observed.  
  
Trunks' face turned a dull red. "Oh, all right. Give me a hand here to get on my feet."  
  
"Please."  
  
"Please give me a hand to get on my feet," he muttered through gritted teeth.  
  
Hiding a grin of triumph, she stepped behind him, grasped him under the armpits and shoved. It took a moment or two of struggling- Trunks' lean build was deceptive. He had to be carrying a lot of muscle weight. Eventually, however, after a lot of groaning and cursing on his part, she had him upright again and leaning heavily on his crutches.  
  
"How did you manage to hurt your foot anyway?" She asked him when she was sure he was balanced securely.  
  
He avoided her gaze, concentrating on maneuvering the crutches. "I fell off a ladder."  
  
Poor man must have been trying to fix a hole in the roof, Marron thought, feeling a stab of sympathy. He probably couldn't afford to have someone do it for him.  
  
She watched him take a step forward, terrified he might fall again. "Just be sure and lift the crutches high enough to miss the rug," she warned, braced to grab him just in case he might topple over.  
  
Without answering her, he hopped his way across the floor, then shuffled sideways through the door into the bedroom.  
  
Marron followed him, keeping a wary eye on his progress.  
  
Trunks halted at the door of the bathroom and peered at her over his shoulder. "I'll have to leave the crutches with you. There isn't enough room to move in there as it is, without these two damn broomsticks getting in the way."  
  
She took them from him, and then waited in an agony of apprehension until she heard the reassuring sound of the toilet being flushed.  
  
A moment later the door opened and Trunks stood in the doorway, supporting himself with one hand on the frame. "Are you still here?" he mumbled, sounding as if he hoped she'd vanished into thin air.  
  
Marron sighed. The truth was, she was feeling more than a little sorry for him. Apart from his injury, it was obvious some other misfortune had happened to him, and it must have been substantial.  
  
His speech and lofty attitude clearly told her that at one time he'd been used to a more comfortable lifestyle. Yet there he was, not only reduced to living in appalling conditions, more than likely half starved, but temporarily crippled, as well. Obviously his company must have felt sorry for him and hired him a temp.  
  
It had to be terrible for a man like Trunks Briefs to have to deal with such a comedown. No wonder he was so defensive and irritable. Marron's kind heart ached for the poor man. "You'll feel better when you've showered," she said soothingly.  
  
He looked as if he would like to strangle her. "Miss Chestnut," he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, "in case you haven't noticed, there is no shower in this miserable excuse for a bathroom. Even if there were, I would not be able to use it with this lump of plaster on my foot."  
  
If his voice rose a fraction, Marron chose to ignore it. Meeting his gaze without flinching, she said calmly, "You could use the tub if you drape your foot over the edge."  
  
"I could, if I were a contortionist, which I am not. Nor do I have any desire to learn how to be one. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with my disheveled, unwashed state for the time being."  
  
She gave her head a decisive shake. "I'm sorry, Mr. Briefs, but I'm afraid I must insist. Not only will you feel better, it will help achieve a more professional atmosphere."  
  
His eyebrows arched. "I'm sorry that you find my appearance offensive. Maybe I'd better find someone less particular."  
  
In spite of her sympathy for his plight, Marron was beginning to lose patience. She took a couple of steps toward him. "You know very well you'd have to wait another day to replace me. In the meantime, you'd lose valuable work time. Besides, I doubt very much if you'd find anyone else willing to take care of you like this. I'm breaking all the rules, you know."  
  
Trunks frowned. "If you must know, Miss Florence Nightingale, I know plenty of women who'd jump at the chance of taking care of me. Now please hand me my crutches. I'm tired and I want to go back to that uncomfortable lumpy couch and read the newspaper."  
  
Ignoring his wishful comment about the other women, she said evenly, "Not until you've bathed."  
  
"And just how am I supposed to accomplish that?"  
  
"I'll help you."  
  
A gleam appeared in the ice-blue eyes. "Well, that should prove interesting, to say the least."  
  
Feeling she'd stepped on shaky ground, Marron lifted her chin. "I'll fill the tub for you. If you sit on the edge and swing one foot in, you should be able to ease yourself down in there, leaving your injured foot hanging over the edge."  
  
For a moment he held her gaze, while she wondered frantically what was going on in his mind, then he let out a long sigh. "All right, I can tell you're not going to stop whining about it, so let's get it over with. Though I warn you, if I get stuck in there, you'll have to haul me out."  
  
"I'm sure you'll manage beautifully."  
  
Trunks grunted. "You'll find a large bath towel in the chest under the bed. Get it for me, will you?"  
  
She waited politely until he muttered, "Please," as an afterthought. Wondering if perhaps she hadn't taken on more than she could handle, she went down on her knees and peered ender the bed. When she stood again, the striped towel in hand, Trunks had disappeared from the doorway.  
  
For a moment she thought he might have managed to get back to the couch without his crutches, but when she looked in the bathroom she found him sitting on the toilet, his face white and drawn.  
  
"Are you all right?" She asked anxiously.  
  
"A little light-headed, that's all."  
  
"I'll cook you a meal just as soon as you get dressed," she promised. "You'll feel better when you've eaten something."  
  
He looked up at her, and she felt an odd tug at her heart. Right then he looked for all the world like a helpless, sulky little boy. "That's if I manage to survive this torture," he muttered.  
  
She smiled. "Don't worry. I'm quite sure you'll be able to handle things just fine."  
  
He studied her in silence for a long moment, and then said quietly, "Your family must miss you a great deal."  
  
Surprised by the comment, she shrugged. "I know I miss them, but I have to admit, it's not nice to be constantly at their beck and all."  
  
"They don't live here?"  
  
"Sagittarius. Still in the country, but not close enough to drop in on me everyday."  
  
"Your husband must like that."  
  
"I don't have a husband," Marron said, ignoring the little skip of her heart. She handed him the towel, then edged past his knees to turn on the faucets in the tub. Her mouth twitched when she envisioned Mrs. Morris' reaction if she walked in on them now.  
  
She'd probably lose her job, Marron thought as she tested the water gushing out of the tap. After adjusting the temperature to her satisfaction, she placed the stopper in the freshly cleaned drain, and then straightened.  
  
Unnerved to find Trunks watching her with immense interest, she dried her hands on the hand towel. "There, that should do it."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Chestnut."  
  
She frowned. "I'd rather you call me 'Marron' if that's all tight with you?"  
  
"I think I can manage that, if you'll call me Trunks."  
  
She thought about that. "I guess that's okay, though I don't think Mrs. Morris would approve."  
  
"Mrs. Morris?"  
  
"The battle-ax who owns the Guardian Angels Agency. You know, Guardian Angels. You must have talked to her when you called."  
  
He shook his head. "I didn't call. That was Paresu. She's. er. the boss' secretary."  
  
"Oh." She wasn't going to say so, but it seemed to her that if the boss could afford a secretary, he could at least pay his employee enough for him to find a decent place to live instead of this damp, rundown old boathouse. Obviously draftsmen didn't earn as much as he thought they did.  
  
"I didn't see any soap in here," she said, watching the water rise steadily up the sides of the tub.  
  
"There's some in the kitchen."  
  
"I'll get it. Don't move till I get back."  
  
"I have no intention of moving," he said grimly.  
  
Marron hurried back into the kitchen, wondering what on earth she'd do if he could get himself out of the tub. She wasn't feeling nearly as confident as she'd like him to believe.  
  
In spite of his shabby surroundings, Trunks Briefs still managed to present a formidable front. She couldn't help wondering just what tragedy had reduced such a seemingly powerful man to living apparently on the edge of poverty.  
  
Perhaps he was paying out alimony and child support to an ex-wife, and that was why he couldn't afford a decent place to live.  
  
Deciding that was it, since he obviously didn't have a wife to take care of him. Marron found the soap and headed back to the bathroom. Trunks sat where she left him, watching the water gushing into the tub.  
  
Marron dropped the soap into the water and turned of the faucets. "Now," she said, beginning to feel more than a little awkward, "you should be able to manage the rest by yourself."  
  
He uttered a grunt of derision. "I'll yell if I get stuck. Just remember this was all your brilliant idea."  
  
Praying that she wouldn't have to help him out of the tub, Marron scrambled out of the bathroom and left him to it.  
  
She spent the next several minutes pacing back and forth in the tiny bedroom, listening to the sounds of splashing from the bathroom and tensed to leap in there at the slightest sound of distress.  
  
To her immense relief, when the summons came, Trunks was already out of the tub. Still looking far too pale, he sat once more on the toilet seat. With nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist, he still managed to intimidate her.  
  
Tiny drops of water slid down his sculpted abdomen. Marron noticed before she snatched her gaze away. "Are you all right? Can I get you anything?"  
  
"Clothes would be nice."  
  
"Oh, of course. Where will I find them?"  
  
"I keep a sweat suit and clean underwear in the chest where you found the towel."  
  
"I'll get them."  
  
Glad for an excuse to leave, Marron hurried back to the kitchen. She was fast discovering that all her years of administering to her brothers and sisters had not prepared her for this particular situation.  
  
While he was getting dressed, she examined the contents of the refrigerator. There didn't seem to be much else in there except eggs, bacon and a carton n of milk.  
  
The freezer, however, held several frozen dinners, a couple of packets of hamburger, frozen vegetables, and a large carton of ice cream. Sorting through the packages on the counter, Marron found a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce.  
  
At least she had the makings for a decent meal, she thought as she collected what she needed. The microwave, much to her surprise, actually worked. It looked so ancient she imagined it had to be one of the first ever made. She threw the hamburger in there to thaw it out, and then went back to the bathroom to check on Trunks.  
  
He was waiting for her in his usual spot on the toilet seat. Wit his hair neatly combed, he looked a lot more presentable. In fact, now that she took the time to really notice, Trunks Briefs' good looks would rival any of those hunks in the TV commercials.  
  
Even the black sweat suit couldn't detract from the imposing air with which he greeted her. "I was beginning to think you'd quit."  
  
"I'm not a quitter, Mr. Briefs."  
  
"So I see. And I remember that we agreed on a first name basis."  
  
She didn't know why she was having such a hard time using his first name. His home was certainly unimpressive, and her wasn't even paying her salary. She had no need to feel intimidated by him."  
  
She got the crutches for him and helped him back to the couch. She knew by the way he sighed when he collapsed upon it that he must still be hurting. It would be another three hours before he could take more medication, she thought, glancing at her watch.  
  
Trunks leaned back and closed his eyes. "Thank you," her murmured. "I do feel better now that I'm smelling sweet and clean again."  
  
Aware that he was making light of the situation, Marron studied him with apprehension. His face was still white and drawn with pain. "I'll have a hot meal ready for you in a short while," she said, hoping that would help. "Perhaps you could take a nap while you're waiting."  
  
Trunks nodded. "Good idea," he murmured, his tone suggesting he was already half asleep.  
  
Marron crept away to prepare the meal.  
  
+++  
  
Thank you to all those who reviewed! I have to go now. I must get up really early tomorrow to go to an island and take photos of it. It's also supposed to be haunted. Anyway, ja ne! 


	5. The Boss

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 5  
  
The Boss  
  
Trunks waited until he was sure she was out of sight before opening his eyes again. His new temp was turning out to be quite a bossy little lady, he thought, his mouth twisting wryly. He hadn't been ordered around quite like that since he was in grade school.  
  
If he was truly honest with himself, he was beginning to enjoy all the attention. Especially since there were apparently no hidden strings. It was quite obvious Marron Chestnut had no idea who he was, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to let her go on thinking he was broke. That way, at least he could be certain she wouldn't be getting any wild ideas about becoming the first Mrs. Briefs.  
  
He smiled, amused by the memory of her standing over him, arms crossed, with her blue eyes flashing and that quaint bobbed haircut making her look like a refugee from the 1920s. Most of the women he met hung on his every word, anticipated his every wish and fell over themselves to please him. Marron Chestnut's militant, no-nonsense, take-charge attitude was a refreshing change.  
  
Mind you, he warned himself, a little of that went a long way. Sooner or later he would have to make a stand and put her in her place. Right now, however, especially since he felt weakened and annoyingly dependent, it was rather nice to lie back ad let someone else run things for a while.  
  
He was dozing when his efficient temp woke him up, holding a plate of something that smelled like heaven.  
  
"Spaghetti Bolognaise," she announced as she struggled to sit up, blinking at the room, which seemed to have become brighter while he slept. "Not too glamorous, I'm afraid, but the best I could do with what I could find. I don't know what you're doing with all those awful frozen dinners in the freezer. Apart from the fact they are utterly tasteless, there's not enough food in them to feed a rabbit."  
  
Trunks was inclined to agree. Looking up at her disapproving face, he felt compelled to offer some defense. "Paresu brought them over on her way to work this morning. She thought they'd be easier for me to manage."  
  
"A large pot of stew would have been easier."  
  
Trunks stomach gurgled at the thought. All he could think about right then was getting him down the best food he'd smelled in days.  
  
"Here." Marron handed him the plate, fork and a piece of paper towel. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you have a tray or napkins lying around somewhere?"  
  
He practically snatched the plate out of her hands. "This will do fine. I'll manage."  
  
"All I can find to drink is instant coffee or milk."  
  
He almost groaned at the thought of steaming hot coffee. "I don't mind instant."  
  
"I'll get it."  
  
She was halfway back to the kitchen before he remembered his manners. "Aren't you going to join me?"  
  
"I'll have mine in the kitchen. I decided to wash the curtains while you were napping. They were filthy."  
  
He winced at her note of reproval. So that explained the extra light. Now he could see that the windows were bare and sparkling clean.  
  
He was tempted to apologize for the tatty curtains, though he had no idea why he should. The spaghetti, however, was right under his nose, and he wasted no more time. He'd wiped the plate clean by the time she returned.  
  
She took the plate from him, and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. "Well, I'm glad to see you managed to eat it all. I've hung the curtains over he stove to dry, so I should be able to put them back up again before I leave."  
  
She started back to the kitchen, adding over her shoulder. "I'll make a list of what you need from the supermarket and I'll shop for you on my way in tomorrow. I'll make you a nice pot of stew, and all you'll have to do is heat it up after I've left tomorrow night."  
  
Warm and fed, Trunks was beginning to feel very mellow. Even the pain in his ankle seemed to be easing. Safe in the knowledge that Marron had no ulterior motive for her attention, he could afford to be gracious. "Thank you, Marron, I really do appreciate all you're doing for me." He watched with interest as a warm blush crept over her cheeks.  
  
"You're entirely welcome." She disappeared before he could say any more.  
  
Obviously she wasn't used to compliments. No doubt she was taken for granted by her large family. The familiar stab of pain went deep and he switched his thoughts to a more practical subject. Now that he was feeling better, he was anxious to get back to work.  
  
Apparently Marron had the same idea, as she came out of the kitchen carrying a small briefcase. "Where would you like me to work?" She asked, glancing around the small living area with a look of apprehension on her face.  
  
She was not a conventional beauty by any means, Trunks thought, studying her with unabashed interest. In fact, if he stood her up against the women he normally associated with, she'd be considered quite plain and even a little dowdy by comparison.  
  
Most of the women he knew wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit. The black skirt was way too long and the shapeless knitted blue sweater did nothing for her figure.  
  
There was something about her, though, that caught his attention. Maybe it was her eyes, so full of warmth and concern, or that engaging quick to her mouth when she smiled. She had the kind of full lips that always looked as if they were about to be kissed.  
  
He'd like to see her in a tight-fitting dress, he decided. From what he'd seen, he had an idea that Marron Chestnut had the kind of voluptuous figure that most men adored and women fought all their life to lose.  
  
"I could work in the kitchen if you prefer," Marron said, sounding unsure of herself for a change.  
  
He pulled his thoughts together, aware that he'd made her uncomfortable by his scrutiny. "Oh, no, I'm sure we can find a spot for you in here. If you clear off that table, you'll have a space to work. I realize it's not what you're used to, but I'm sure we can manage. Just dump everything on the floor."  
  
Everything, as far as he could see, was made up mainly of work papers that had occupied the floor anyway until Marron had picked them up.  
  
Giving him a disapproving look that almost made him smile, she carefully piled that papers onto a chair, then sat down on the other one and opened up her briefcase.  
  
"You work for an architect, I understand," she commented, as she took out a notebook, a couple of pens and a small alarm clock, which intrigued Trunks no end. Apparently Marron Chestnut was used to keeping strict hours.  
  
He felt a stab of guilt, realizing that she had gone above and beyond the call of duty so far that day. "Yes, I do. It's a partnership, actually. Quite successful too." He strived to keep the gratification out of his voice. It had taken a lot of sacrifice and hard work to build up his side of the business, and the company was one of the few things he'd achieved in his life he truly took pride in.  
  
"That's nice."  
  
He'd detected a tinge of sarcasm in her voice and he frowned. "They've built some pretty impressive buildings in the city," he said defensively.  
  
"Really. They must make plenty of money then."  
  
"Lots of it." He was beginning to feel a little uneasy. She was obviously leading up to something.  
  
All he could see was her profile, but he could tell she was upset about something. His apprehension grew as he watched her apparently wrestling with her thoughts. Then she turned on him so abruptly she made him jump.  
  
"Well, I know it's none of my business, but I think it's disgusting. Do they have any idea how you live? If they've got all this money, surely they could give you a raise to tide you over until you get back on your feet? If I were you I'd demand a raise. Or find another job. You're an intelligent man. There must be a lot of people out there who would love to pay you well for working for them. You are certainly worth far more than those cheapskates deserve, and if I worked there I'd tell them so."  
  
Trunks' jaw dropped. Never in his life had he been so passionately defended. She was wonderful. She was certainly wasting her time working as a temp. She should be studying to be a lawyer, or a politician.  
  
Marron, it seemed, was now regretting her outburst. Her face was red; she was making a big pretense of hunting through her briefcase for something. "Sorry," she muttered. "None of my business."  
  
"No, it's all right," Trunks assured her. "I appreciate your concern. Really."  
  
She gave him a faint smile, and he found himself smiling back at her, a warm glow beginning to spread around his heart. Fortunately, for his peace of mind, Marron broke the spell by reaching for the computer. "We had better do some work, I suppose, or you might not have any choice about working for." She looked over at him. "What's his name?"  
  
Trunks, still in a haze of well-being, gazed at her blankly. "Whose name?"  
  
"The hotshot, skinflint architect you work for."  
  
"Er." Trunks groped for a name and came up with Paresu's husband. Son. Goten Son." Sorry, Goten, he thought privately.  
  
"Hmmm." Marron flicked the computer on and sat watching it boot up. "I don't think I like your Goten Son very much."  
  
Trunks felt very glad he wasn't the target of that remark. Deciding it was time to get down to some serious work, he switched his concentration onto the reports that were waiting for his attention.  
  
He was startled a couple of hours later by the shrill alarm of Marron's clock. "Time for a break," she announced as she switched it off. "You probably need to go to the bathroom again."  
  
He did, but he wasn't sure he could have mentioned it in such an offhand manner. She may not have had a nurse's training, he thought as he graciously allowed her to help him to the bathroom, but she had the bedside manner down pat.  
  
The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, and Trunks was surprised by how much he had accomplished when Marron's alarm went off again.  
  
He expected her to grab her coat and take off. Instead, she insisted on heating up two of the frozen dinners, albeit serving them with a faint air of disgust, and then hung up the curtains again. She wrote down what seemed to be a long list of things she said he needed, and left without saying how she intended to pay for them.  
  
Her stern command to be careful still rang in his ears, long after she'd departed. He'd never realized before how quiet was his mooring on the river, and how far from the civilization. Even the blaring of his portable TV did little to dispel the gloom that settled over him as he finished the second unappetizing mess in the pitiable foil compartments.  
  
He almost jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. Since Paresu was the only one to have that number, he wasn't surprised to hear her voice when he answered.  
  
"Just checking in to see how you're doing," she said cheerfully. "How's the temp working out?"  
  
"She seems adequate," Trunks said cautiously. He wasn't about to wax poetic about his Florence Nightingale. His secretary knew him well enough to tell when he was impressed and he didn't want her getting the wrong idea.  
  
"I trust you're behaving yourself?"  
  
He frowned at that. "I never mix business with pleasure, as you very well know."  
  
"Good. No problems, then?"  
  
"Not so far."  
  
"How are you managing for meals?"  
  
"I'm doing fine with the frozen dinners."  
  
"Is there anything else you need? I could drop in tomorrow with some supplies."  
  
"No!" Trunks lowered his voice. "Thank you, Paresu, but that won't be necessary. Mar. Miss Chestnut offered to bring in what I need." If she can carry them all, he added inwardly.  
  
"Sounds as if she's taking good care of you then."  
  
She didn't know half of it, Trunks thought with a smug smile as he replaced the receiver. He'd landed himself one heck of a deal. An efficient temp, a great cook, an attentive nurse and no strings. What else could any well- confirmed bachelor ask for?  
  
He rubbed his hands together and leaned back on the lumpy couch. It looked as if Trunks had fallen smack on his feet again. He was beginning to look forward to the next four weeks after all.  
  
+++  
  
Hello there! You know what? It's good to be alive. Yes, alive. Why? Because I almost died on the way to that friggin island. Yes, I'm serious. I almost died. And to top it off, I saved a little girl's life and now she's stuck to me like glue. I guess I'm lucky. About thirty people didn't have the same luck as I did. Somebody loves me up there.  
  
I've been writing original stories and fanfiction since I was 10 (way before I knew that fanfiction existed as a word). I'm happy that people like the stories, lia, so I don't think I'm putting them down. I'm very flattered that you think like that, but there are also other authors who are much better than I am. 


	6. He thinks she thinks

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 6  
  
He thinks. she thinks.  
  
Less than an hour later the phone rang again on the River Rat, startling Trunks out of his doze. Frowning, he slowly reached for it. He'd taken great care never to give out the phone number on the houseboat to anyone except Paresu.  
  
Miserable as it was, this place was his refugee whenever he needed a respite from his hectic life. He wasn't about to have his sanctuary invaded by one of his persistent female acquaintances. Though he'd have to find another place to hide once he'd sold the old tub, he thought as he placed the receiver to his ear.  
  
He spoke in a hoarse whisper, just in case he needed a disguise. The voice that answered him was pleasantly familiar and full of concern.  
  
"Mr. Briefs? Are you all right?"  
  
Of course, he'd given the number to the temp agency. The alarm in Marron Chestnut's tone was gratifying. Trunks cleared his throat. "I'm fine, Marron, thank you. Just a frog in my throat."  
  
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought perhaps you'd fallen again."  
  
"I promised you I'd be careful."  
  
"Yes, well, I have the impression that you don't always do what you're told."  
  
There it was again. that delighted motherly tone that made him feel so. pampered. "Ah, but I always keep a promise."  
  
She laughed, a low musical sound that seemed to ring bells along the wire. "I forgot to give you my phone number. just in case you should need help or something and can't get anyone else."  
  
He reached for the pen lying on the floor next to the couch and scribbled the number down his wrist. "Got it. Oh, I'll settle up with you over the groceries when you get here in the morning."  
  
There was a short pause, and then Marron said casually, "Please, don't worry about it. I'll put the charges on my credit card, and you can pay me back whenever it's convenient. I'm in no hurry."  
  
Realizing she thought he couldn't afford the groceries, Trunks opened his mouth to protest. Before he could say anything, however, Marron had wished him a breathless goodnight and hung up.  
  
Trunks replaced the receiver, feeling a tide of guilt wash over him. He'd taken this poverty thing too far. He should be ashamed of himself, taking advantage of a woman's good nature. First thing in the morning, he promised himself, he'd tell her the truth and apologize. Maybe if he explained why he'd done it, she wouldn't be too upset with him.  
  
He missed her when he struggled to undress for bed. He missed her reassuring presence hovering close by, ready to leap to the rescue if he should lose his balance.  
  
He couldn't help wondering why someone like Marron Chestnut wasn't married. A woman like her would be loyal to the core. There had to be men out there who appreciated a woman for her personality rather than her looks.  
  
If he were looking for someone- which he wasn't- he reminded himself emphatically, but if he were- looks would be way down on the list. In Trunks' experience, most of the beautiful women he met were obsessed by their appearance, and had very little else to offer.  
  
He hadn't met a woman yet with the warm, generous, sensible nature of Marron Chestnut. Well, maybe Paresu came close, but she was happily married.  
  
He went to sleep thinking about Marron, and woke up with the eager anticipation of her arrival. While he waited for her, he browsed through the morning paper. He usually only read the sports page and the business section, but this morning he had time to kill, and flipped idly through the entertainment section.  
  
The sight of his picture slap-dap in the middle of the page gave him a jolt of dismay. It had been taken at a charity dinner for the local arts association. The woman with him was a casual date. He'd decided that same evening not to pursue the relationship when she made it clear she was looking for a rich husband. He hadn't seen her since.  
  
The article was tongue-in-cheek, commenting on his ski accident and his subsequent "vanishing act." It was written by an acid-tongued reporter who'd taken his polite rejection of her determined advances a little too personally.  
  
The piece painted him in the worst possible light, stopping just short of libel. The writer was clever, stating facts in such a way that anyone was reading it would take it the wrong way- and probably would.  
  
If Marron Chestnut read that piece of garbage, Trunks thought mournfully, he'd not only be out of a temp, he could lose the best company he'd had in years. She'd probably never set foot on the River Rat again.  
  
He was surprised how bad that made him feel. He'd only known her a few hours, yet instinctively he knew that he couldn't have hand picked a better temp if he'd tried.  
  
She was efficient, quiet, and not in the least a bit distracting. She made him smile with her quaint little ways, and considering his situation, that was no easy task.  
  
Most of all, he had the distinct impression that even if she knew his true identity, she wouldn't be all that interested in him. That might not be too flattering, but it certainly reassuring. For if there was one thing Trunks was certain of, it was that no woman was ever going to lead him down the treacherous path to matrimony.  
  
Marron awoke earlier than usual. Rain spattered against the window of her apartment bedroom, and she lay listening to it for a moment or two. Trunks was probably still asleep, she thought, picturing him lying in the crumpled bedcovers like a sleepy little boy.  
  
The image made her smile, and she hummed a few lines from her favorite songs as she showered and dressed in a warm beige wool dress.  
  
She didn't usually bother with makeup, but she paused long enough at the mirror to dab some lipstick on her mouth and run a comb through her damp hair before preparing her breakfast.  
  
She liked to read the paper while she ate her daily bowl of cereal. Knowing what was going on in the world was important for one's growth, her father had told her on more than one occasion. He was always offering her advice, most of which she listened to. Her father was a smart man.  
  
After skimming the headlines, she glanced through the rest of the pages in the main section. Nothing of much interest caught her eye, and she turned to the entertainment section, hunting for the horoscopes.  
  
Do not let others mislead you today, she read. There is danger in deception. Stand fast by your convictions and refuse to be saved. Well, that was nothing new. She always stood by her convictions, no matter what the outcome. That was something else her father had taught her.  
  
Smiling, Marron idly turned the page and took another mouthful of cereal. A picture of a busty redhead in the middle of the gossip section caught her eye. The smiling woman wore a dress with half the bodice missing, and leaned on the arm of a lilac-haired man with a smug, possessive air that made it clear she considered him her personal property.  
  
Marron glanced at the man, and nearly choked on her cereal. She peered closer. She didn't need to read the article to recognize that familiar face. The man in the tux and white tie was Trunks Briefs.  
  
Her cereal forgotten, Marron scanned the lines of the article. Trunks, she was astounded to discover, was not an impoverished draftsman eking out a meager living as he'd led her to believe.  
  
Nor was Goten Son Trunks' boss. He was, in fact, the hotshot architect he'd pretended to be working for and was one of Pisces' most affluent citizens. Apparently he was also one of the city's most notorious.  
  
According to the article, Trunks had a steady stream of female admirers waiting in line for his attention. None of them, in the reporter's opinion would last more than a day or two. Trunks, it appeared, was remarkably fickle. He obviously enjoyed variety.  
  
Marron's rising resentment flared into hot indignation when she read that Trunks had broken his ankle while skiing with yet another of his conquests. The poor woman was apparently out of her mind with worry, since trunks had disappeared from the hospital without telling anyone where he was going and no one knew where he was.  
  
He'd deliberately lied, Marron thought, staring in disgust at the deceitful, smiling face of Trunks Briefs. He'd lied about who he was, he'd lied about how he'd injured his foot and he'd made her feel sorry for him, believing he couldn't afford a nourishing meal or a decent place to live.  
  
No doubt he was laughing up his sleeve this very minute at how easily he'd fooled the dim-witted, naïve little moron who didn't have enough sense to know when a man was taking advantage of her good nature.  
  
When she thought about all the cleaning, cooking and washing she'd done for him, not to mention playing nursemaid. Her cheeks burned. How he must have enjoyed her feeble attempts to spruce up his "home."  
  
She couldn't imagine why he was holed up like that on the river in such a primitive shack, but her obviously had his reasons- probably questionable at that. She doubted very much if Trunks Briefs knew the meaning of integrity.  
  
He was just too good at playing games. Obviously he's had plenty of practice. Judging from the article she'd just read, Trunks Briefs was a master of manipulating women.  
  
She was tempted to quit right then and there. Only that would be running away and Marron had never been one to back off from a problem. Ant problem. She was more likely to attack head-on.  
  
No, she would finish out the contract, and she would let Mr. Playboy Trunks know exactly what she thought of his behavior. No more nursemaid. No more sympathy.  
  
She'd do her job according to Mrs. Morris' rules, and nothing more. And that included doing his darn grocery shopping. Let one of his bimbos do it for him, she thought with a malicious scowl.  
  
By the time she'd reached the river, she'd had time to cool down. She was still hurt and annoyed with Trunks' treachery, but nevertheless he had to eat, and he wasn't going to exist for long on the meager offerings in his fridge.  
  
For some reason, it seemed as though he hadn't informed any of his female admirers of his whereabouts, which seemed strange. From what she'd just read, she'd have thought he'd enjoy being surrounded by his panting girlfriends.  
  
She stopped off at a small convenience store about a mile from where the houseboat was moored, and bought half a dozen sackfuls of groceries. Discarding the list she'd made the night before, she chose items that she thought would be more to Trunks' extravagant taste, and rather enjoyed running up the hefty bill.  
  
She'd make sure he wrote a check for the full amount before she left for the day, she told herself, and he could forget the stew. Let him fend for himself. As he'd taken such pains to tell her yesterday, he was quite capable of taking care of himself.  
  
It took four trips to carry the grocery sacks from the car to the broken down-down door of the houseboat. She noticed, for the first time, the faded letters on the side of the front wall as she trudged back with the last one.  
  
So the houseboat was named the River Rat. Well, that could also be a fitting name for its owner, as well, she thought, beginning to seethe with resentment again as she twisted the handle of the door and pushed it open.  
  
She could hear no sound from the living room when she carried the sacks in and stood them on the kitchen counter. In spite of her resentment, she felt a spasm of apprehension as she pushed open the door and peeked in.  
  
She'd been half afraid she'd see Trunks sprawled on the floor again, but he sat on the couch wit his bad foot resting on the arm. She could tell at once by his expression that he was apprehensive about something.  
  
No doubt he'd seen the article and was probably wondering what she would say to him. Well, she could play games too. She wasn't even going to mention the darn article.  
  
+++  
  
It's nice to know that someone cares. I haven't mentioned that incident to anyone except for one friend who did something that was short of fainting and later refused to bring it up again, and you guys.  
  
I got into a boat accident. Two ferries collided because of the heavy rains, choppy seas and mist that appeared out of nowhere. The smaller one sunk in record time but I managed to scramble aboard the rescuing navy boat. They dropped us off at the original island destination when the passengers kept throwing up on the deck.  
  
I still accomplished my mission, which was to take pictures of the darned haunted island. I didn't have anything else to do and crying in public was not my style. No wonder it was haunted. Lots of boats had the same fate before. I also took care of a little girl who was separated from her parents. They got reunited at midnight at the harbor. That's about it. I don't really feel like giving the detailed gruesome version. Hope you don't mind this version though.  
  
Well, back to the present. Thanks to all those who reviewed! :) 


	7. Lies

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 7  
  
Lies  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Briefs." She said, keeping her voice cool and polite. "I hope you managed to sleep well?"  
  
"Pretty well. Marron- "  
  
"Mr. Briefs, I've changed my mind about that. I think I'd prefer to be called Miss Chestnut. Excuse me, I have some groceries to unpack."  
  
She turned her back on him and went into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. She half expected him to bellow something at her, but he was silent while she stacked the grocery items into the freezer, the fridge and the inadequate cupboards.  
  
He was probably thinking up some new lies to cover up for the old ones, she thought darkly. Well, it would take a better man than him to wriggle out of this one.  
  
She put off going back into the living room for as long as possible, but there was only so long she could take to put away the groceries. Bracing herself for the next round, Marron pushed the door open and marched into the battlefield.  
  
She resisted the urge to ask him if he'd eaten breakfast. She'd seen no sign of cooking or empty plates in the kitchen. Most likely he'd been waiting for her to fix it for him. Well, it would do him good to go without. It would give him a taste of what it was really like to go hungry. Perhaps then he wouldn't be quite so ready to fake poverty.  
  
"I'll finish up on those reports I started on yesterday," she announced, concentrating on emptying her briefcase so she wouldn't have to look at him.  
  
"You've seen the article in the paper, I assume," Trunks said quietly.  
  
The papers in her hand quivered, but she managed to say quite calmly, "Yes, I did."  
  
"I'm sorry, Marron. I'd like to explain."  
  
"There's nothing to explain, as far as I'm concerned." She stacked the papers neatly together and laid them in front of her. "You had your little joke, and I'm sure you must have found it amusing."  
  
Trunks' sigh sounded heartfelt. Marron hardened her heart, reminding herself how good he was at making her feel sorry for him.  
  
"I never intended to offend you," he said after a moment of tense silence. "You assumed I was destitute and living on this dump, and I just felt it might be better to let you go on thinking that."  
  
"You lied to me," Marron said crisply.  
  
"All right, I lied. I'm sorry, I have no excuse for that. I was tired of being treated like a crown prince of Arabia and I thought it might be nice to be treated as an ordinary human being for a change."  
  
"There was no need for all that pretense. I wouldn't have treated you any differently even if I'd known who you really re."  
  
"Wouldn't you?" Trunks asked gently. "In my experience, most women do."  
  
"I'm not most women. I'm not in the least bit interested in your money, or your private life, for that matter. All I care about is doing my job. So I'd appreciate it if we could get back to work."  
  
"All right, I guess I can't you blame for getting steamed. I hope you won't stay mad at me for long, though."  
  
Marron gritted her teeth. It wasn't going to be easy ignoring all that boyish charm, but if she valued her self-respect she would have to make the effort.  
  
She worked in near silence the entire morning, answering Trunks' comments only when necessary. When the growling of his stomach finally became too loud to ignore, she made him a turkey sandwich, though she made it quite clear she didn't consider it part f her duties.  
  
She maintained her professional attitude throughout the day, ignoring Trunks' weak jokes and futile attempts to start a conversation. Before she left she presented him with the grocery bill, and waited in silence while he wrote out a check.  
  
It wasn't until she was on her way home that she admitted to herself that the whole miserable day had been a terrible strain. There had been so many times she'd had to stop herself from smiling at his silly jokes, or curb her impulse to answer his comments.  
  
Her anger had long since melted away, leaving in its place a determined indifference. Now that she knew who he really was, she had firmly place herself on her side of the barrier.  
  
Trunks Briefs had everything. looks, money, and a highly successful business. He was constantly surrounded by beautiful, sophisticated women who were familiar and comfortable with his lifestyle even though he apparently cast them off as soon as he got bored with them, which was all too frequent, according to the reporter.  
  
Trunks' travels to Europe and Asia were well documented in the article, as were his two expensive sports cars. He lived in a different world- a world where no doubt Marron's attractive, experienced sisters would fit in without any problem. A world where plain, ordinary, naïve Marron Chestnut, however, could never belong.  
  
In admitting that, she had to admit to something else. Trunks had been right. Had she known yesterday what she knew today, she would have treated him differently. Her face burned when she remembered ordering him into the tub, and practically standing over his half-naked body in that tiny bathroom.  
  
She made a prize fool of herself with Pisces' most eligible bachelor. She could just imagine him sharing the joke with one of his glamorous girlfriends.  
  
The hardest thing to swallow was the fact that she had been the one to insist on helping him. If she were honest, she'd have to admit that he'd protested at first, until he'd apparently decided it would be found fun to go along with the farce.  
  
Well, there'd be no more of that, she promised herself. That was the last time she made a fool of herself in front of him. From now on, she was strictly his own temporary assistant until his ankle healed. That was what he'd hired her for, and that was all that was expected of her.  
  
She just wished she could feel happier about that.  
  
+++  
  
I just found out that my best friend in grade school is already engaged! We sort of drifted near the end of high school since there was a lot of distance between us. And snail mail, although more exciting, is really slow. The fact that the lady who sells stamps was such a busybody didn't help either.  
  
Back to the news, it'll be in two years and I'm going to be a bride's maid. I haven't felt so weirded out since the time one of my friends called me up and said that our class' miss goody-two-shoes had a kid and stopped school. Okay, the wedding is not in the very near future yet but still... I feel old. I am no where near being remotely socially accepted as an adult and people I know are getting married and having kids already. I'm barely out of my teens yet!  
  
Change.. weird and inevitable, but you have to live with it.  
  
Speaking of change, let me greet some people who have to change their age now.  
  
Happy birthday to.  
  
Zell! A very good friend who is now sweating it out in somewhere in the corporate world. You're old now, man :p . Hahaha! Here's a virtual hug for you. Squish!  
  
Leona! My roommate and the best student in the Evil School of the Rose. You do me proud, girl. Now I have to run along and buy something for the girl. We have to show a certain person what he's missing out on.  
  
But before that, I have to tell you that these chapters were already typed before. I'm so busy in school and the orgs I'm in that I can't find time to type the future ones. Don't worry though, I've done till chapter 16. These notes at the end are the only things that I can change before posting it. So, we better start praying that Leona's pc gets out of the icu soon we'll be in trouble.  
  
To Legolas Luver. I can't find what's so funny about being in a boat accident. It certainly wasn't fun avoiding looking at the corpses on board. Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad. I just want to know if being in a "boat accident" has some other sneaky connotation that I'm not aware of. Tell me?  
  
To Kim Hallam. I hope I've explained why the chapters of this fic aren't that long. But you can also take a look at Fair. Every chapter is 9 pages long, verdana, font size 9, single spaced. It's also complete so you don't have to wait for the next chapter.  
  
So, if you'll excuse me, I have to pay my respects to my idol, kinomi-sama, at before this guy beside me kicks me out of the cyber cafe I'm in.  
  
Thanks to all for the reviews! :) 


	8. Food heals

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 8  
  
Food heals  
  
Trunks sat staring at the uninteresting lumps of chicken he'd heated up in the foil tray, and wondered how he was going to make up for hurting Marron. Something told him that expensive flowers or candy wasn't going to do it. That kind of thing always worked with other women he knew, but Marron wasn't anything like the other women.  
  
He really missed the concerned, funny, warm-hearted woman who'd forced him to take a bath the day before. He didn't care for the distant, highly professional robot she'd turned into today.  
  
It was no more than he deserved, of course. He should never have let it for on for so long. Only a matter of an hour or two, and he would have told her the truth himself. She might still have been mad at him, but at least he might have had the chance to explain.  
  
Damn that reporter. She'd rally done a number on him. Not that he was a saint, of course, but he certainly wasn't the Don Juan the article had suggested. Most of the women he dated were casual acquaintances, someone to be with when he attended all those social and charity dinners that his position made obligatory.  
  
He'd had relationships, true, but he always made it clear right from the start that he wasn't interested in anything permanent. It wasn't his fault if women were convinced they could change his mind.  
  
There had been times when he'd had to be brutal to be kind. Like the pesky reporter, for instance. She had been particularly insistent until he'd been blunt about how he felt. Now she found a way to get even.  
  
Trunks sighed. He'd been looking forward to the pot of stew Marron had promised. He'd really fouled things up, and now it was up to him to make amends. Something told him it wouldn't be easy. Marron Chestnut had a strong mind of her own, and it was going to be tough getting through that wall she'd set up.  
  
He wasn't sure why it mattered so much to him. He usually went out of his way to foster the playboy image most people seemed to have of him. Women were less inclined to take him too seriously when they heard about his reputation.  
  
Marron, however, wasn't one of his women. He could tell that she was a decent person, with morals and values that were rare nowadays. He didn't want her thinking that badly of him. Somehow he had to redeem himself.  
  
Three days later he was still searching for the answer. Marron arrived on time, and left on time. She was quietly efficient, noncommunicative and horribly polite. She did make him a sandwich for lunch each day, but there was no more mention of breakfast or a pot of stew, and he was reduced to warming up the last of the frozen dinners.  
  
While she was there he kept up a steady stream of comments, lighthearted banter and a joke of two when he could remember one. She remained impervious to it all, and he was beginning to despair of ever getting through to her. For once, his so-called appeal that women kept talking about wasn't working, and it was beginning to worry him.  
  
Then, on the last day of the week, with the gloomy prospect of a lonely, boring weekend looming up, Marron surprised him by asking him what he'd been eating for dinner.  
  
She sat at the table with the computer, just a foot away from where he lounged on the couch. "You haven't touched any of the groceries I bought you," she said, sounding quite cross with him.  
  
Her disapproval was music to his ears. At least she'd noticed something about him. He was beginning to think he was invisible where Marron was concerned. "I'm not exactly what you'd call a decent cook," he admitted, trying on his most helpless. Little-boy-lost look. "I haven't the faintest idea what to do with the stuff in the fridge."  
  
"So what have you been doing about the meals?"  
  
He shrugged. "I finished up the frozen dinners."  
  
She sighed, and gazed at the computer, while he waited in rising anticipation. Finally, she said, with a great deal of reluctance, he noted, "I suppose I could make you a stew before I leave."  
  
"Oh, would you? Really? That would be so great. I haven't eaten any decent food since you fixed the spaghetti for me. I'd love to have some stew. I really would."  
  
He must have overdone the enthusiasm, as she gave him a wary look. "What about breakfast? You do know how to scramble eggs, I assume?"  
  
"I know how to mash them up in the pan, if that's what you mean." He put on the helpless expression that usually got him what he wanted.  
  
She shook her head in disbelief. "I'll make an omelette for lunch and show you how to do it. Even you should be able to manage that."  
  
He winced at the scorn in her voice, but managed to smile. "Thank you, Marron," he said, sincerely meaning it. "I'd really appreciate it. I haven't the attempted to cook any eggs since I burned the last lot. They'd sure make a nice change from burned toast."  
  
She began typing, retreating into silence again, but somehow he felt the tension between them easing just a little. He was astonished at how happy that made him feel.  
  
Marron wrestled with her conscience as she typed out the complicated estimates he'd given her. In spite of her determination to keep things on a purely professional level, she couldn't help feeling guilty for neglecting him.  
  
She was used to taking care of people. she'd done it all her life, and it came as naturally to her as breathing. It had been almost as hard on her as it had on Trunks to pretend she didn't notice that he'd been half starving himself. She'd worried about him, though she'd die rather than let him know that.  
  
She'd expected the River Rat to be swarming with women once he realized she wasn't going to wait on him hand and foot. Yet days had gone by and there had been no sign of anyone paying him a visit. Either he was hiding out from everyone for some strange reason, or he wasn't as popular with women as the article had made out.  
  
She wondered what had happened to the woman he'd run out on at the hospital. Obviously he didn't think enough of her to let her know where he was. Though surely someone as well known as trunks Briefs shouldn't be that difficult to find.  
  
On the other hand, no one would dream that a man with all his money would be holed up in a beat-up old boathouse on a deserted stretch of the river.  
  
She looked up as Trunks hobbled over to the window on his crutches. She had to hand it to him. In spite of the problems he had moving around his confined space, he never once complained.  
  
In all the years she'd taken care of her family, she'd never seen any of them keep up their good spirits the way Trunks had. She didn't know if she could have remained that cheerful under the same circumstances. Especially since the only person he'd seen in days was so unresponsive.  
  
She watched him push back the curtains to look outside. The rain that had pounded relentlessly on the roof all morning still streamed into the swollen river, clouding the view of the opposite bank.  
  
She saw his wistful expression and felt a tug of remorse. She certainly hadn't been any comfort to him. It must be terrible to be cooped up in such a miserable place for days on end.  
  
Much as she hated to admit it, something about Trunks brought out the mothering instinct in her. Trunks reminded her of a spoiled little boy with so many toys he'd never had the chance to enjoy any of them.  
  
He mentioned expensive sports cars and trips to Europe with an indifference that she would use to talk about sneakers and a trip to the zoo.  
  
His cynical remarks about his women friends irritated her, and when he spoke about some of the crazy stunts he'd pulled, she'd had a hard time to keep a still tongue, but in spite of it all, she sensed that underneath the playboy attitude, Trunks Briefs was a very lonely man.  
  
"Is there anyone I can call to come and see you?" She asked as he dropped the curtain and hobbled back to the couch. "What about your secretary?"  
  
He shook his head. "Paresu has enough to worry about with her own family. She doesn't need to play nursemaid to me."  
  
"What about your. friends?"  
  
He glanced around the cluttered room with a rueful smile. "I don't want to overwhelm then with all this grandeur. They might want a piece of it. Besides, I'd never get any work done if people kept dropping by."  
  
She was silent for a moment, then felt compelled to ask, "why do you stay here? Why don't you work at home?"  
  
"I live at the beach. It's too far from the office. In any case, how would I ever find a temp as efficient as you are in a place like Aquarius Bay?"  
  
She almost suggested she stay down there with him, but luckily she recognized the stupidity of the idea before the words popped out. "What about a hotel?" He could certainly afford one, she thought.  
  
"Too noisy. Not to mention inconvenient. As they say, no matter how humble, there's no place like home." He pulled a face. "Though I have to admit, this is a little more humble than I'd bargained on when I bought the dump."  
  
"You didn't look it over before you bought it?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not really. I saw it advertised in the paper and bought it for an investment. I figured on fixing it up then selling it. It's been handy for camping out now and again, but now that I'm living in it, I've found all kinds of things wrong with it."  
  
Marron had to agree with him about the pitiful state of the houseboat. The damp atmosphere made her think of sitting on the grass after a spring shower. She was seriously beginning to worry about Trunks' health, sleeping in what had to be a damp bed every night.  
  
In fact, she was beginning to worry far too much about him. And that, she warned herself, could spell trouble in a big way. Trunks Briefs was a business client, not a family member in need of her nurturing capabilities. She'd do very well to remember that, before she overstepped the line again.  
  
+++  
  
You have no idea how exhausted I am. I can only go home to my computer on Saturdays now! That's because of the ton of homework that these professors give us every weekend. How is it going to be a weekend if you can't see an end to the work that you're doing? Darn things, you'd think they never were students in their lifetime.  
  
Anyway, onto my response to the reviews. No feelings were hurt. And yes, your idea is funny and weird. No prob and I hope you enjoy the other fic. Thanks, I'll tell my friend what you said. I don't read Harry Potter because I have this thing that when too many people like it and breathe it and only think about it and talk about it non- stop (you get the picture), then I have a tendency to stay away from whatever it was that caused the craze. It's not that I hate it or them, it's just that I don't pass any judgment over it/them. Maybe I'll get around to start reading it. when my professors give me breathing space. I know lots of people who'd be happy to know that I would have seen the light. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
That's about it. See if you can figure out which reply goes to you; but this one is for everyone with virtual hugs included:  
  
Thanks for the reviews! Mata ne!  
  
PS. And you know about the Kinomi I was talking about last chapter? This is her! In the Romance-Trunks-Marron section! She finally updated Timeline Orphans: Volume Two! Go visit her site now! *rushes off to Kinomi's site to offer prayers of thanks* 


	9. Game plan

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 9  
  
Game plan  
  
"You must be getting sick of staring at these walls," Marron said, turning back to the computer. "I know I would, if I were stuck in here."  
  
"I might, if I didn't have such charming and intelligent company. And a great cook, besides. What more could any man ask for?"  
  
She felt herself blushing again. There he went with the sweet talk again, she told herself. He never missed an opportunity to throw off balance. Not that she ever let him know she was affected by it. That would be playing right into his hands, and she wasn't about to amuse him at her own expense again.  
  
She had to admit, though, he was beginning to get through her defenses. She wasn't used to being so formal with people, and the strain of keeping it up was getting on her nerves.  
  
Trunks seemed determined to break down her resistance, and he never let up on his attempts to make her smile. If nothing else, she had to admit, he was persistent to a fault. She rather liked that. It showed he had some strength of character at least.  
  
She was, in fact, beginning to lose her resolve to stay aloof with him. It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain a professional attitude when her employer was spouting bad imitations of Mister Satan or Clint Eastwood, or slashing a wild Z in the air with his crutch while shouting that he was Zorro.  
  
She could quite see what women saw in him. He was not only good-looking, he was fun to be around, and that combination of sophisticated charmer tempered by mischievous little boy would be tough to resist.  
  
Deciding to call a limited truce, she asked him about his work as they sat sharing a large plate of pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs for lunch.  
  
She was surprised when he described some of the buildings he'd designed. She recognized two or three of them from when she'd worked in the city, and she was really impressed when he showed her a photograph of a beautiful, enormous country-style mansion that he'd designed.  
  
Huge, ivy- covered portals at the to of the front steps gave the house its majestic air, while massive firs offered shelter and seclusion. It was a house someone like a movie star would live in, she thought, gazing wistfully at the latticed windows and slanting roofs of the quaint dormers.  
  
The kind of house a woman would fall in love with on sight. A dream house, like the one she longed t own one day.  
  
She would have liked to ask who lived in it, but she had the feeling it was someone important who no doubt valued his privacy. "It's beautiful," she murmured, handing him back the picture.  
  
He smiled. "I must admit I'm rather partial to that one myself."  
  
Marron thought about the article she'd read. It had focused entirely on Trunks' conquests with women. There hadn't been one word about his achievements. Yet in spite off all his trips overseas, and his hectic social life, he must have worked very hard to have achieved the kind of success that allowed him to live the way he did.  
  
No wonder he didn't want any of his fancy friends coming over to see him. He was probably ashamed of the River Rat, and didn't want anyone to know that the infallible trunks Briefs had made such a lousy investment.  
  
She prepared the stew for him and set it on the stove that afternoon, and by the time she was ready to leave, the entire house smelled of onions and fragrant herbs. Trunks kept sniffing every now and again, demanding, "Isn't it ready yet?"  
  
Finally she dished him up a huge plateful and set it in front of him at the table, together with a plate of bread rolls she'd taken out of the freezer earlier.  
  
"There's plenty left," she said, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction as she watched him hungrily attack the food. "Enough to see you through the weekend."  
  
He paused with his fork midway to his mouth and looked up at her dismay. "You won't be back until Monday?"  
  
"I don't work weekends," Marron reminded him firmly.  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
She took one look at his crestfallen face and weakened. "I could look in on you tomorrow, though, just to see how you're doing."  
  
"Great! Then perhaps you could cook those steaks I saw in the freezer. It seems like years since I had a good steak."  
  
What else? Marron thought, annoyed with herself for being such a pushover. There were plenty of things she could do with her weekend rather than waste it catering to a bored womanizer who didn't have enough conscience to let his friends know where he was.  
  
Aware that she was being uncharitable, she weakly nodded. "All right, I'll stop by and cook your steaks."  
  
"You'll stay for dinner?"  
  
Her first instinct was to refuse, but then she thought about s him spending the long, lonely hours alone in that desolate place. After all, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. She hadn't been in Pisces long enough to make any friends. "All right," she said at last. "I'll stay for dinner."  
  
"Great. I'll look forward to it, then. Let's make an evening of it."  
  
She felt a tinge of apprehension, wondering how she'd get through an entire evening without work to fall back on. Then she had an idea. "Do you play Scrabble?"  
  
His eyes lit up. "Do I play Scrabble? Boy, do I play Scrabble. Of course I play Scrabble. I always play Scrabble. Doesn't everybody play Scrabble?"  
  
She eyed him suspiciously. "How many times have you played Scrabble?"  
  
He looked sheepish. "None. But you could teach me. I'm a fast learner. Specially if we play for money."  
  
She shook her head. "No money. We'll play for candies."  
  
"Candies?"  
  
"You don't have to eat them."  
  
"Aw, that's half the fun."  
  
"Okay," she said, relenting, "you can eat them. That's if you win any. I'm a good Scrabble player."  
  
He grinned. "Now I'm really looking forward to it."  
  
She got out of there before he noticed her getting flustered again.  
  
She had to stop feeling sorry for him, she told herself as she drove back to her apartment that evening. That was always her undoing. She saw someone in need and she had to rush in and help. One of these days her eagerness to take charge was going to get her into big trouble. If it hadn't already.  
  
+++  
  
I just got home to my pc and I'm now eating a bowl of Double Dutch ice cream. Want some? *offers ice cream to beloved readers*  
  
Thank you for the reviews! Judging by their amount and the quantity of stories updated and/or posted, most of the people have probably gone to the beach or the mall or somewhere out there to enjoy their summer break. Lucky people. And here I am, slaving away. Well, not really. I like what I'm doing. Although I could really appreciate having more access to a pc during the week. My stock of chapters is running low.  
  
My org in the uni is celebrating its anniversary so I'll be really busy next week. And since it has a lot to do about Japanese culture, I'll most definitely be able to get free Japanese food again. Mmmm. maki. yum. 


	10. Different lives

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 10  
  
Different Lives  
  
When Marron arrived on the River Rat the next evening, she found the tiny table in the living room covered with a red-checkered tablecloth. A vase of yellow and red tulips stood in the middle, with a tall wineglass set on either side.  
  
"I called Paresu and asked her to bring them over," Trunks explained when she expressed her surprised delight. "I thought it was the least I could do, seeing as how you're cooking dinner."  
  
Marron wondered if he'd told his secretary whom it was he'd invited to dinner. She probably thought he'd asked one of his women friends.  
  
He must have had Paresu bring him some clothes, as well, she noticed, since he wore black slacks and a red and black polo shirt. It was the first time she'd seen him out of his sweat suit, except for the first day when he'd worn the shabby robe. She wasn't prepared to find him looking so debonair and undeniably attractive.  
  
He reminded her too much of her sisters' boyfriends. Marron never had been really comfortable around sophisticated men. Her sisters never had any trouble, always sounding so bright and witty when they fielded compliments and teasing comments with their snappy answers.  
  
Whereas Marron invariably became tongue-tied in the presence of these attractive, confident hunks, and avoided them whenever possible. Men like that made her feel like the poor hick country cousin in comparison to her poised, glamorous, worldly sisters.  
  
She'd always taken their good-natured teasing with a smile, but there had been many nights when she'd wished that things had been evened out a little bit better.  
  
She felt that same awkwardness now as trunks balanced himself against the doorframe to watch her broil the steaks. She'd chosen a soft, maroon velvet top to wear with her favorite ankle-length floral skirt. She'd always liked that outfit, but now she felt like a frump in it. Trunks probably thought she'd found it in a second hand store.  
  
Actually, she amended; he didn't seem to notice what she was wearing. He was too intent on telling her about a camping trip he'd gone on with a girlfriend. He laughed as he described the poor woman's disastrous attempts to cook a meal over a campfire.  
  
"She kept insisting she could do it," he said, chuckling at the memory, "but an hour later the steaks were still red raw and covered win ash. We ended up driving twenty-five miles to the nearest town to find a restaurant."  
  
"She must have been horribly embarrassed," Marron said, deftly flipping the steaks on the broiler pan.  
  
"I doubt it, Trunks said carelessly. "She wasn't the type to worry about stuff like that."  
  
"What happened to her?"  
  
"Huh?" He looked puzzled.  
  
Marron gave him a pitying look. "Where is she now?"  
  
"I don't know. Running around somewhere, I guess. I don't keep track of her."  
  
Or any of his women after he'd finished with them, Marron presumed. She wondered just exactly how many broken hearts he'd left by the wayside.  
  
It wasn't her place to judge him, she reminded herself, as she briskly tossed the salad in the large wooden bowl she'd brought along. What Trunks did in his private life was none of her business.  
  
She might not approve of his lifestyle, or his attitude toward women, but it wasn't her place to tell him so. If women were silly enough to fall for his good looks and smooth talk, that was their choice.  
  
She almost fell for his blarney herself when he bit into his steak with a murmur of appreciation. "This is fantastic," he announced. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"  
  
She had to remind herself that Trunks would go to great lengths to flatter her if it meant he had someone to cook his meals for him. She had deliberately sounded offhand when she said, "I cooked for my family nearly all the time. I had plenty of practice."  
  
"Your mother didn't cook?"  
  
"Sometimes. Usually weekends. But both Daddy and Mom worked long hours, so I usually cooked the meals during the week."  
  
"What about your sisters? Didn't they cook?"  
  
She shrugged. "I was the eldest, I guess everyone got used to me doing it. I didn't mind that much. I really like to cook."  
  
He offered her some more wine, but she shook her head. One glass was quite enough when she had to drive home.  
  
"It must have been tough to leave a big family like that," he said after he'd refilled his glass. "What brought you to Pisces?"  
  
"A dream." She dug her fork into her salad, avoiding his gaze. She didn't really want to discuss such a personal issue with him. He'd probably think she was crazy.  
  
"What kind of dream?"  
  
"Something I would like to do one day."  
  
"Can you tell me, or is it illegal."  
  
She had to laugh at that. "Not as far as I know." To her surprise, she found herself telling him about it. "I've had this dream for a long time. I want to run a shelter for runaway teens."  
  
He looked impressed, and not at all skeptical. "That's quite an undertaking."  
  
She shrugged. "I know. But I happen to think it's important for young people to have somewhere to go when they've been driven out of their homes for whatever reason. Everybody needs to feel that somebody cares about them. If you give someone love and understanding, sooner or later they'll respond."  
  
He was silent for a long moment, while she concentrated on her salad, praying he wouldn't recite all the impracticalities of her idea. He sounded a little odd when he said finally, "That's some dream. Somehow I think you'll make it."  
  
She looked up, and caught a fleeting look of wistfulness before he erased it with a smile.  
  
"I guess it will take a long time," she said, still toying with her salad. "That's why I left my hometown. There just aren't that many opportunities there. So, I decided to come to the city and sign on as a temp. I'm temping. I'm hoping that I'll get an offer from one of the big corporations. I want to take some classes in the fall. When I'm ready I'll look for work and maybe one day I'll end up with my own house."  
  
"Good thinking," Trunks said, sounding briskly professional for a change. "That's very solid strategy. I might even be able to help you with that."  
  
"Really?" She felt a spasm of excitement. "It will take a lot of hard work and sacrifice, I know. I can probably forget about getting married. There aren't many men out there who would be willing to share their home with a bunch of troubled teenagers. But that's okay, I'll have my dream, even if I do have to make it alone."  
  
Trunks had gone very still. He was silent for a long moment, looking at her with eyes so intense she felt her pulse leap. She felt uncomfortable, but couldn't seem to pull her gaze away from the absorbed look on his face.  
  
Everything sounded very loud all of a sudden, raindrops spattering on the windows, the creak of the houseboat's weathered timbers, and the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears.  
  
"That would be a terrible waste," Trunks said quietly.  
  
She wasn't sure how to answer him. He'd sounded sincere, yet she knew, only too well, how easily flattering phrases fell from his lips. Deciding it was time to change the subject, she asked lightly, "What about your family? Do they live here in Pisces?"  
  
She was shocked at the change in him. He muttered a curt, "No," and pushed his chair back.  
  
Aware that her question had caused his distress, she tried frantically to think of something to say. The words seemed frozen in her head. Before she could recover he added, "I don't suppose you brought dessert with you? Don't worry if not, there's plenty of ice cream in the freezer."  
  
Automatically she started to rise, but he stopped her with a sharp gesture. "Stay there. I'll get it."  
  
She watched him hobble into the kitchen on his crutches, too stunned to protest. Her heart raced as she tried to imagine what could have caused that awful look. There was no doubt that at some time in his past, Trunks had suffered a terrible tragedy of some kind. One that was obviously too painful for him to talk about.  
  
But he needed to talk about it. Only by facing the demons, her father said many times, do you get rid of them. Trunks needed someone to trust and confide him someone who would love him enough to understand and help him overcome his grief.  
  
What Trunks really needed, Marron decided then and there, was a woman who would give him the security and contentment he needed to forget his wild, reckless ways. All those casual flings were not doing him any good at all. He needed some stability in his life.  
  
But he needed to change his ways if he was going to find someone who would really care about him. What he really needed right now was for a compassionate person to take him in hand and show him where he was going wrong.  
  
And there wasn't a better person to do it than Marron Chestnut.  
  
By the time Trunks returned with a carton of ice cream and two spoons, she was already planning her first strategy. She had no doubt that Trunks Briefs presented a formidable challenge. She had yet to meet a more cynical, impudent daredevil, and he would not be easy to tame.  
  
But Marron thrived on challenges. She'd met enough of them while helping to raise her three brothers, and she wasn't going to let one misguided, black-hearted rebel spoil her record. She'd just have too forget that Trunks was several years older than her, a good deal richer than her and had a reputation that would make even her brothers wince.  
  
He was someone who badly needed help, and she could not turn her back on a lost soul. "You seem to be managing much better with your crutches now," she said, taking the spoon he offered her.  
  
"It gets easier with practice. Besides, it's not the first time I've had to use the damn things. I smashed up my knee pretty badly a couple of years ago and was on crutches for weeks."  
  
She watched him settle himself on his chair again then dug into the ice cream. "How did you hurt your knee?"  
  
"I was learning to sky dive. I forgot to bend my knees when I landed."  
  
She shuddered. "Do you think you could manage well enough to take a trip in the car tomorrow?"  
  
His light blue eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Do you feel up to talking to me?"  
  
"I don't see why not." She studied the mound of ice cream on her spoon. "There are no steps between here and the car, and all you have to do is sit once we get you in there." She e frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be going for checkups or something?"  
  
"Next week."  
  
"How were you going to get there?"  
  
He waved his spoon at her. "I was going to call a cab, but now you can take me."  
  
"Where is your car? I haven't seen one parked outside anywhere."  
  
"I let it at the ski lodge. Someone will drive it back to town, I guess."  
  
"You guess?" Her eyes opened wide, remembering the cars described in the article. "How could you leave an expensive car sitting around like that without making sure someone would take care of it?"  
  
Trunks shrugged and licked his spoon. "I wasn't thinking about cars when they loaded me into the ambulance. Don't worry, Hikaru probably drove it home." He wrinkled his brow. "I think her name was Hikaru. Or Hikari. No, Hikaru. I think." He grinned. "Close enough, anyway."  
  
Marron laid down her spoon, not at all sure that he was joking. Lesson number one was clearly in order. "No, it's not close enough," she said sternly. "If you're taking a young lady out for the day the least you can do is remember her name."  
  
Trunks dug his spoon back into the ice cream. "In the first place, she's not that young a lady. She's older than I am. In the second place, it wasn't just the day out. It was the entire weekend. In the first place, even if I hadn't broken my ankle, I would have come up with a way to end the relationship."  
  
Marron almost lost her nerve. After all, none of this was her business. But then, if she was going to save Trunks' soul, she would have to make it her business. She made her voice sound as casual as possible when she asked, "Is that the same lady who was searching the hospital for you, desperately worried about what had happened to you?"  
  
"The only thing that lady was worried about, "Trunks muttered, "was who was going to pay for the weekend at the ski lodge."  
  
Marron gasped. "You left without paying?"  
  
"I was unconscious at the time." Trunks licked his spoon again and laid it on the table. "Why am I being cross-examined? You don't happen to know Harriet, or whatever her name is, do you? She's not your best friend or something?"  
  
Marron felt her cheeks growing warm, but she stuck gamely to her guns. "No, of course not. I just think you treated her pretty badly, that's all. I don't think any woman deserves to be treated like that." She squirmed under trunks' intense stare.  
  
"Is that so," he murmured with just a trace of sarcasm.  
  
"That's my opinion, yes."  
  
She stared at him defiantly, expecting him to tell her to mind her own business. Instead he surprised her by giving her a rueful smile. "You don't approve of me, do you?"  
  
"I don't approve of your attitude toward women, now that you mention it."  
  
"They don't seem to mind too much."  
  
"Until you dump them?"  
  
"I don't dump them. I simply end a relationship I didn't want in the first place."  
  
"Then why start one?"  
  
"I'm not a monk. I happen to like female companionship. The problems stat when women want some more than I'm willing to give them."  
  
Like a lasting relationship for instance."  
  
"I don't believe in lasting relationships." He tilted his head to one side and gave her a crooked grin. "After all, why buy the book when you can borrow it from the library? You get a lot more to read that way."  
  
She scowled, suspecting him of deliberately baiting her. "That's disgusting."  
  
"I expect you to say that." He shook his head in mock disbelief. "Why the hell am I telling you all this, anyway?"  
  
"Because I'm not a threat to your bachelor status. You can be completely honest with me, whereas you can't with your girlfriends."  
  
He stared at her in amazement. "You're not a shrink, are you?" Paresu didn't pull a fast one on me and send me a therapist?"  
  
"I've never even spoken to Paresu," Marron said serenely. "I'm not involved in your life, so I can see things more clearly, that's all. One day you'll regret living the way you do, that's if you don't kill yourself first. You can't go on jumping out of planes and throwing yourself down mountains. Eventually you'll end up seriously injuring yourself, or worse."  
  
"And if I do," Trunks said evenly, "there'll be no one to mourn me. So it's all relative."  
  
Sensing that she'd gone as far as she dared for now, Marron dropped the subject and suggested they get out the Scrabble board.  
  
She enjoyed the game, finding Trunks to be a worthy opponent considering he hadn't played before. He attempted to cheat a couple of times, but graciously gave I when she challenged him.  
  
She won by fifty-three points, much to Trunks' disgust. He immediately demanded a rematch, but a glance at the clock told her it was time to leave.  
  
"You'll get another chance another day," she promised him, "but I have to go home and get some sleep if I'm taking you tomorrow."  
  
"I hope you're keeping track of all your hours," Trunks said, watching her pull on her jacket. "I'll be paying you overtime. The weekend is on me."  
  
"I can't let you act as nursemaid for me without some kind of payment."  
  
"You can pay for the hamburgers tomorrow." She pulled open the door and looked back at him. "I'll be back around ten to pick you up. Please try not to burn the house dawn before I get here."  
  
He gave her a cheeky grin. "You're not going to tuck me up in bed before you go?"  
  
"I think you can manage that by yourself." She closed the door, smiling to herself. The smile, and the warm glow inside, lasted all the way home.  
  
+++  
  
Our anniversary week was great! Lots of food, Japanese movies and bishis! Unfortunately, they weren't the ones that we would all die for. Hehehe. But it was still great. Maki. yum.  
  
Happy birthday to Vid! He is the most adorable little thing that a girl could wish for. Also to Ura-Ura! Feed me! Where's the food?  
  
Thanks again for the reviews. Ja ne! 


	11. Somewhere else

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 11  
  
Somewhere else  
  
Trunks waited impatiently for Marron the next morning, eager to be out of the houseboat and back in the real world for a little while. He was looking forward to their outing with more excitement than any other time he could remember.  
  
Marron was refreshing company. A little too bossy at times, definitely too concerned with his private life, and she tended to hit a sensitive button now and again with her blunt observations, but he had the impression she genuinely cared about his welfare, and that was rare.  
  
He was willing to overlook her irritating habit of lecturing him on his depraved lifestyle. He enjoyed sparring with her, especially when one of his teasing remarks produced a hot bush - something else he didn't see too often. More than anything, he enjoyed the relaxation of being with her.  
  
She was open and honest, and he knew that she was not in the least bit interested in him personally. He was a client, and if she was going above and beyond the call of duty in taking care of him, it was because of her dedication to a fellow human being in trouble. She'd made that crystal clear.  
  
And if that smarted him just a little, it was his pride that was affected, nothing more. He was used to women fawning all over him, and it was a nice change not to have to deal with that.  
  
Having convinced himself of that, he waited eagerly at the window until he saw her scurrying through the rain holding a large umbrella over her head.  
  
"It's really pouring down," she said breathlessly as she bounced through the door, shaking raindrops from her hair like a playful terrier. "I got soaked before I could get the umbrella up."  
  
"I've coffee on," Trunks said, feeling incredibly happy to see her. "Let's have a cup before we leave."  
  
She peered up at him from beneath her straight bangs. "Have you eaten breakfast?"  
  
He shook his head sheepishly. "I didn't feel like eating. I was too anxious to get going. This will be the first time I've been outside this place in a week."  
  
She heaved a sigh of exasperation. "You have to eat before you go out. That's the best way to catch a cold, going out on an empty stomach. Sit down and I'll fix you some eggs." She stood the umbrella in the sink and slipped out of her coat.  
  
Watching her, he felt suddenly out of breath. Up until now she'd worn loose dresses or tops with long skirts. Today she wore a pink T-shirt tucked into tight-fitting jeans. He'd been right about her figure. Her curves were softly rounded in just the right places. His mouth watered.  
  
"You'd better sit down," she said in her mother hen voice. "You don't want to get overtired."  
  
He jerked his gaze away from her captivating anatomy to where a faint flush tinged her cheeks. He had to forcibly remind himself that this was Marron - safe, sensible Marron. He had no business having those kinds of thoughts about her figure, even if he did ache to touch her.  
  
"I... er. I'm not really hungry," he said, desperate now to get out of the intimate confines of the tiny kitchen. "Why don't we forget the coffee and get something to eat while we're out?"  
  
"Because," she said, turning her back on him and giving him a tantalizing view of her denim-clad rear, "you're not too agile on your feet right now. A restaurant might be a bit much for you to handle.'  
  
"You mentioned hamburgers last night," he reminded her, trying in vain to keep his mind off the ways she moved in those jeans. "Where were you planning on eating them?"  
  
"I'd planned on going through a drive-in. I really don't think you want a fast-food breakfast as well as lunch."  
  
"I don't mind," he said weakly.  
  
"Well, I do. So sit down and I'll fix some breakfast. You can read the paper while I'll fix some breakfast. You can read the paper while I'm cooking it."  
  
He gave up and retreated to the living room. At least he could stay out of sight until he'd recovered some self-control. Sinking down onto the couch, he buried his head in his hands. He had to be crazy, thinking about her that way. He could just imagine what she'd say if she realized he was getting lustful ideas about her.  
  
She'd be out of there so fast he wouldn't have time to blink. She already had a bad enough opinion of him. He'd be looking for another temp on Monday.  
  
Okay, time for some common sense. Things had to be desperate if he could get the hots for someone like Marron Chestnut. It had been a long time, that was all. Typical male reaction to the female form. He sighed; trying not to remember exactly how touchable that female form had looked.  
  
He had to stop thinking this way. He still had three weeks to go before he could get off the damn crutches, and he needed Marron. He couldn't afford to lose her now.  
  
In the next few days she'd worked for him she'd picked up a lot of the unique terms and phrases he used in his work. He'd have to explain all that over again to a new temp. Besides, he'd been lucky with Marron; she wasn't the type to drool all over him and generally making things awkward.  
  
He'd had to fire more than one employee for creating uncomfortable situations at work. Being confined to the houseboat, hampered by his injured foot, and pursued by an amorous gold digger was not his idea of a comfortable working environment. He knew from experience just how persistent someone like that could be.  
  
No, he just had to play it cool, stay on guard and act as if he hadn't noticed that Marron had a figure that could make a frustrated man cry.  
  
Marron set the scrambled eggs and bacon in front of Trunks, trying to decide how best to spend the day. "Where would you like to go?" she asked as she sat down with a cup of coffee to watch Trunks enjoy his breakfast. "You know the city better than I do. Do you need to go by your office for anything? We could stop by there first."  
  
Trunks shook his head. "I don't want to go anywhere near the office. This is Sunday, and I've been cooped up for a week. I need a little excitement."  
  
Her hand gave a nervous twitch and she put down her coffee. "Excitement? I'm not sure where we'd find that today. I was thinking of perhaps a nice leisurely drive around the city while you show me all the buildings you've designed. Then lunch, and maybe a ride through the park." Her voice faltered when she saw Trunks' narrowed eyes.  
  
"Why don't we drive to Gemini? He said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.  
  
"Gemini? But that's a three-hour drive away."  
  
"We'd be there for lunch. Or how about Taurus? That's even better."  
  
Dismay made her voice squeak. "Taurus?" She shook her head, unable to understand this kind of impulsive thinking. "It would take us all day just to get there."  
  
He pushed his empty plate away. "Six hours, maybe a little more in the rain."  
  
"We'd get there just in time to turn around and come all the way back."  
  
"Not if we stay overnight."  
  
Her hand jerked, spilling the hot coffee on her hand. She barely felt it. "Mr. Briefs! If you're suggesting-"  
  
"Relax. I'm not suggesting anything. This is purely business. We're just changing our workplace for a while, that's all. We'll get a couple of hotel rooms."  
  
Embarrassment for having jumped to the wrong conclusion made her go hot and cold. She retreated behind a mask of disapproval. "I don't think that would be appropriate."  
  
"On separate floors, if you'd feel safer," Trunks said dryly.  
  
Her cheeks were burning now. She resisted the urge to cover them with her hands. "It's not that, at all. It's. you said you didn't like working in hotels."  
  
"That's was before I'd spent a week in this rat hole."  
  
"It's quieter than a hotel room."  
  
His eyes narrowed. "Do you have someone waiting for you at home?"  
  
Taken aback by the unexpected question, she stammered, "No, I. that is."  
  
"Well, do you? A boyfriend who might object?"  
  
She sat up straighter. "Of course not. Though I don't think my parents would approve."  
  
Trunks' eyes rolled upward. "I realize you come from a small town," he said gently, "but I promise you, this sort of thin happens all the time. There's nothing immoral about it. We can go up tonight, take in the sights and get some work done on the laptop. No one need ever know that you didn't work right here. I'll pay all your expenses, of course."  
  
She had never been more tempted in her life- just to take off on the spur of the moment and go somewhere as glamorous as Taurus. She'd never been that far away from home before. The whole idea sounded so exciting, and terribly decadent. and not at all practical.  
  
She came back to earth with a sigh. "I can't possibly drive up to Taurus today," she said firmly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"My car would never make it there, let alone back. It's practically falling apart."  
  
"You don't have to drive at all. I can hire a limo and driver."  
  
Shocked at this extravagance, she shook her head. "I can't just go off on a second's notice. I don't have a change of clothes with me for a start."  
  
"We'll stop by your place and get some."  
  
"But you can't go hopping around Taurus on a broken ankle."  
  
"The limo driver can take us around. You'd love Taurus, it's a fantastic city and it might not even be raining up there. Where can we go in Pisces in the rain?'  
  
"Lots of places. There's. uh." She'd been going to say the museum, but remembered that he couldn't walk. Maybe they could rent a wheelchair. Somehow she couldn't picture trunks Briefs sitting meekly in a wheelchair.  
  
"You see? You couldn't come up with anything."  
  
"But you'll have a terrible time getting around. You have to eat."  
  
"I don't eat with my foot. If I can manage here I can manage a restaurant."  
  
She was weakening, she thought in dismay. She was running out of arguments.  
  
"If you're worried about your reputation," trunks said gruffly, "Don't be. My infamy hasn't quite reached that far yet. No one knows me up there."  
  
She raised her chin. "I'm not in the least bit worried about my reputation. I've done nothing to be ashamed about. I'm just concerned that you might do some more damage to your ankle, that's all."  
  
That wasn't true, of course. She was overwhelmed by the thought of spending two or three days with Trunks Briefs in Taurus. If only her sisters could see her now! How she wished she could tell them.  
  
They'd probably laugh at her for getting so excited over a simple working assignment, she thought ruefully. They'd take this sort of thing in their stride. The thrill of it all gripped her again, and she felt her entire body tingling with it.  
  
She looked up at Trunks, who sat watching her with wry amusement playing across as if she were poised on the edge of a high diving board, "I'll do it. But I want to drive. I wouldn't feel comfortable otherwise. Perhaps we could go in your car?"  
  
"The Ferrari's at the beach, and I don't know where the Porsche is right now. We'll have to rent one." He gave her a quizzical look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have someone drive us?"  
  
"Quite sure." She was going to feel intimidated enough, without being driven around a strange city in a chauffeur-driven limousine. At least if she did the driving she could tell herself the trip was just part of her job. "Perhaps it would be better if you wait here while I go and pick up some clothes and rent the car," she suggested.  
  
He nodded his agreement, his triumphant expression making her feel even more apprehensive. She was beginning to regret her rash decision. Whatever had come over her? This wasn't like her at all. Her sisters would be horrified if they knew what she'd done, and her mother would more than likely order her back home at once.  
  
As for her father. Marron smiled as she hurried down the ramp to her car. Her father would probably talk her to go and have a good time, just as long as she remembered to keep her head on straight.  
  
Well, she certainly intended to do that. And this would be an ideal opportunity to use her influence on trunks to show him what a disreputable and dangerous life he was leading. He might even be a changed man by the time he returned. After all, miracles did happen now and again.  
  
Left alone on the houseboat, Trunks sat with his head buried in his hands. What had he done? Once more his impulsiveness had landed him in a treacherous swamp. He'd been so anxious to get away, anywhere as long as it was away from the River Rat, that he hadn't weighed the consequences of taking Marron to Taurus.  
  
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. No one knew him up there. He would be free to wander around without the danger of running into someone he didn't want to see, and the trip would give him a couple of days' respite from his self-imposed incarceration on the boathouse.  
  
When he'd mentioned Taurus to Marron, it had been simply on an impulse. Her immediate opposition to the plan had made it seem all the more desirable.  
  
He rather enjoyed arguing with Marron. She had an expressive face that mirrored all of her reactions, from flashing indignation in her eyes to that endearing warm blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.  
  
It wasn't until now, when he'd had time to really think about it, that he realized spending so much free time with her might not nave been such a good idea.  
  
He would be thrust into her company for much of the day and night. Considering that he'd already felt a necessity to curb his reactions to her voluptuous figure, he was letting himself in for a very uncomfortable day or two.  
  
He groaned, and leaned back on the couch. It was too late now to change his mind. She already thought he was a lecherous womanizer and an accomplished liar. If he told her now that he didn't want to go, after she'd rented the car and everything, she'd add "fickle" and "immature" to the list.  
  
She might even think he was weird. He was not going to get much respect from someone who thought he wasn't firing on all eight cylinders.  
  
Trunks sighed, and heaved himself off the couch. He'd just have to go to Taurus, and make the best of it. All he had to do was remind himself that Marron was not the kind of woman who would eagerly welcome his amorous advances. She was much more likely to aim a well-placed knee to the groin if he laid a hand on her.  
  
Grinning at the capricious thought, he hobbled through the bedroom to the bathroom, and began packing.  
  
+++  
  
Hello there! I've been very busy last week so I couldn't update. Gomen, ne? Anyway, thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Winged Angel's review shocked me. I thought that it was a virus. I didn't expect to see so many lines repeated that much. No offense meant!  
  
This fic is one of my tame ones. Yes, I have them lying around in some old notebook that no one would dare open. I'm very secretive about them. So, as for the loving. I'm going to start the next one (with lots of loving) as soon as I can find the time to breathe. Okay?  
  
That's all for now. Ja ne!  
  
28 July 2003  
  
omg! I'm so sorry with the strange things that appeared on the text! I had to take this down and take it to the doctor. I'm never going back to that stupid cyber café again. Darn them. Thank you for putting up with the weird creatures that wanted to be part of the chapter. 


	12. En route

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 12  
  
En route  
  
Marron gripped the wheel of the unfamiliar car and squinted as a passing truck sent a waterfall cascading across the vast windshield. In spite of the rain, and the fact that it was Sunday, the freeway hummed with the heavy traffic.  
  
The farthest north she'd ever been was Pisces. She'd never even seen Gemini, and they still had several miles to go before they reached that city.  
  
Trunks had been fairly quiet for a while, content to stare out of the window for long stretches of time. She had no idea what he was looking at. The heavy rains prevented them from seeing much more than the saturated firs lining the freeway. Trunks pointed out the sites but Marron could see nothing more than heavy mist above the soaking fields.  
  
"What do you usually do with your weekends?" Trunks asked suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts.  
  
"Mostly I spend them finding my way around Pisces."  
  
"That shouldn't take very long."  
  
She sent him a reproachful look. "Pisces might not be a big city to you, but when you come from a small town, I can promise you, a city that size can be overwhelming."  
  
"Have you seen the town in sunshine yet?"  
  
She smiled. "As a matter of fact, I have. It doesn't rain all the time, you know."  
  
"No, it just seems like it. Still, I guess it's better than the heavy snows they get in other parts."  
  
She glanced at him. "Have you lived in Pisces all your life?"  
  
"No. Just the last fifteen years. What did you do with your weekends in. where was it you said you came from? I forget."  
  
"Aquarius." He'd changed the subject again, she noticed. She wondered again what it was he took such pains to forget. "I spent my weekends helping my mother take care of my brothers and sisters, mostly. With five of them there were always dance classes, ball games, swimming lessons, music lessons. you know how it goes."  
  
He was silent, and she wondered if it was because he'd never done those things when he was small. Maybe he was an only child. She would have liked to ask him, but he'd made it clear that his past was not something he wanted to discuss.  
  
"Anyway," she added, "it was a lot of fun, and there wasn't much else to do there, especially in the winter. Not like Pisces. There's always something going on here. I'm dying to go down and take a look at the Saturday market, it sounds really interesting. Have you been there?"  
  
"No, it's not exactly my idea of a fun time."  
  
He'd sounded slightly patronizing, and she felt a spurt of resentment. "Well," she murmured, "we can't all afford to fly off to the Islands for a week, or risk our necks on the ski slopes."  
  
"I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that I don't like being around crowds."  
  
Annoyed with herself for jumping to conclusions again, she went on the defensive. "I would think crowds would be tough to avoid considering your hectic lifestyle."  
  
"I manage."  
  
Now she felt ashamed for being so petty. Glancing at him again, she said quietly, "Are you comfortable? Do you need to stop and stretch out?"  
  
"I'm fine. This is a roomy car."  
  
She'd followed his instructions and rented the Lincoln he'd suggested. She'd never been inside such luxury, let alone actually driven it. The buttery-soft seats smelled of new leather, and the dashboard looked like it belonged to a space shuttle.  
  
There were buttons for everything, as Trunks had demonstrated when he'd adjusted his seat in a dozen different ways, all by the touch of a button. Marron half expected an arm to come out the glove compartment, holding a bubbling glass of champagne.  
  
The silver monster seemed to eat up the miles, effortlessly sweeping around the curves with just a light touch of her fingers. It was almost like flying, there was so little movement or sound inside the car. In fact, she found the silence a little unnerving.  
  
As if reading her thoughts, Trunks turned on the radio, flipping through several stations before he found one he liked. The soft notes of a romantic song filtered into the car, making Marron feel uneasy again.  
  
She cast around her mind for something to say that would break the tension crackling around her. Even trunks seemed ill at ease, and she wondered if he regretted suggesting this trip now that they were actually on the way. He was probably wishing he'd asked one of his girlfriends, she thought wryly.  
  
"You must have been to Taurus a lot," she said at last.  
  
"I've been up there a few times. It's a great city. You'll like it."  
  
"Is it difficult to drive around there? I'm not used to driving in big cities."  
  
"You'll be fine. I'll tell you how to get to the hotel. It's pretty straightforward." He sounded amused. "Don't worry, I'm not taking abducting you to the back of beyond."  
  
"Oh, I'm not worried." That wasn't the truth, of course. She worried about everything. Whether her clothes would look tacky and inappropriate. Whether she'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and embarrass Trunks with her lack of sophistication.  
  
What on earth had possessed her to agree to this crazy idea? She was totally out of her depth, and right now she would give anything to be heading back to her nice, safe and comfortable little apartment in the East Hills of Pisces.  
  
Seated next to a dynamic, worldly entrepreneur in the warm, intimate atmosphere of a luxury sedan was neither comfortable nor particularly safe, in Marron's estimation.  
  
She gritted her teeth and reminded herself why she came to the big city. If she was going to survive in the corporate world long enough to realize her dream, she would have to learn to deal with all kinds of situations.  
  
Besides, if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that in a million years Trunks Briefs would not see plain, dumpy little Marron chestnut as a potential conquest. She was perfectly safe on that score. With that thought firmly entrenched in her mind, she did her best to relax.  
  
Just north of Gemini, Trunks asked her to pull into a roadside restaurant for a late lunch. Getting him in and out of the car proved to be a great deal easier than she would have imagined.  
  
He was in excellent physical shape, she noticed, watching him swing his long legs effortlessly out of the seat. His energetic lifestyle had paid off in this case, at least.  
  
Seated by a very attentive hostess in a quiet corner of the cozy dining room, Trunks brightened considerably. "This is more like it," he announced, beaming at Marron across the table. "I feel like I've just been released from prison."  
  
Assuming that his spirits had been lifted by the pretty redhead, Marron stifled her resentment. "This is a very nice restaurant," she agreed. "There are even fresh flowers on the table."  
  
"The food isn't bad either. Not anywhere hear as good as you delicious home cooking, of course," Trunks said, flipping open the menu, "but the ambience is a definite improvement and I couldn't ask for more delightful and stimulating company."  
  
Oh, how smoothly the compliments rolled of his tongue, Marron thought as she studied her own menu. All the practice he'd had made it all sound so genuine. Thank heaven she knew better than to take him seriously.  
  
"My father would like this restaurant," she murmured. They serve liver and onions, his favorite meal. My mother won't have liver in the house, so the only time he gets to eat it is in a restaurant."  
  
"He likes liver?" Trunks sounded impressed. "I admire anyone who can actually eat the stuff. He must be quite a man."  
  
"He is." She smiled, feeling a bittersweet pang of nostalgia. "I think I miss him more than any of the others. He's a terrific man."  
  
Trunks put down his menu. "He would have to be able to handle six kids." "He could handle double that without any problem." Marron said with a little burst of pride. "He's a wonderful family man. He's wise and fair, hardworking and adores my mother. And us, of course. If I ever get married, it will be to someone just like him." "Well, that's quite testimonial." She looked at him, wondering if he was being sarcastic, but for a brief moment his face held that same wistful look she'd seen before when she'd mentioned her family. Taking advantage of the opportunity to press home her point, she added lightly, "He deserves it. He aught us all the importance of loyalty and sticking together when things go wrong. You can't have a close relationship with someone unless you're willing to make that kind of commitment." "Not man people make a commitment these days. It's a cutthroat world, where you have to look out for number one if you want to stay on top." "I think that's very sad. If everyone had that attitude there would be no more close relationships. Just people putting up with each other. What a bleak world that would be." Trunks shrugged. "I guess everyone has their idea of what constitutes a good life."  
  
"Well," Marron said defiantly, "I'm going to wait until I find someone with the same values and ideals as my father. I'd rather be poor and living in a shack with someone who truly loves me, than rich and lonely. That's why I've never had a relationship with anyone. There aren't too many men around like my father." Trunks looked startled. "You've never been in love?" Marron's cheeks grew warm. "I've never even had a steady boyfriend. Just the odd date now and again. I guess I've always been too busy taking care of my family to spend much time looking for a suitable husband." "Then you've never. er." "Never," Marron said firmly. The waitress arrived t that moment to take their order, and spent the next few minutes exchanging witty remarks with Trunks, then almost left without taking Marron's order. Marron said nothing after the waitress left, but Trunks must have sensed her disapproval as he grinned at her, saying, "To each his own, I guess." Trunks could look very attractive when he grinned. It really was too bad he was such lousy husband material, Marron thought, smiling back at him in spite of herself. He spent the rest of the meal giving her his undivided attention, as if to make up for his earlier lapse. Not that Marron particularly minded him flirting with the waitress; of course, it was just that it was one more reminder of what a formidable task she'd set for herself. They reached the border of Taurus just as it was getting dark. Marron gripped the wheel and peered at the road. "Is it still far?" "Almost half an hour, depending on traffic. Don't worry you won't miss it." She got her first glimpse of the city as she crossed a wide bridge. Dazzling lights in brilliant colors stretched in all directions, taking her breath away. She'd considered Pisces a big city. It would have been lost in one corner of the sprawling metropolis that spread out before her now. The hotel where Trunks directed her to was another revelation. It was built right on the bay, it's white walls dotted with glistening windows towering high above the busy street. The front entrance swept around in a huge semicircle, with wide, curved steps leading up to several glass doors. Marron nervously watched as an impressive doorman in tails and a top hat stepped out into the street to open the car door with a flourish. "Thank you," she murmured as she slid out of the seat, feeling as if she should be in a glamorous evening gown instead of jeans. Never in her life had she experienced such treatment. It was all so breathtaking. The doorman assisted Trunks out of the car and handed him his crutches. Marron accompanied him up the steps, marveling at how ha managed to look regally imposing in spite of his bandaged foot. In fact, she noticed glances in his direction from several young women, and she got the impression that it wasn't just curiosity about his injured ankle. There was no doubt about it. Trunks Briefs attracted a lot of attention. He seemed oblivious of it all, however, as they sailed up the escalators on their way to the magnificent lobby. Water cascaded down the marble falls, storefront windows displayed diamonds and furs, while a silver-haired man dressed in a white tuxedo sat on a high platform playing a classical piece on a white grand piano. Marron craned her neck to see everything, breathless with excitement. In a daze she accepted the key to her room from a smiling receptionist, then followed Trunks into the elevator, where they were whisked up to the thirty- third floor. Her room was a few doors down from Trunks', and she left him to wait for his luggage while she went to take a look at it. The bed was enormous, and the windows overlooked the bay. She could see a mass of lights across the water, and traffic moving across a long bridge. Tomorrow she'd get her first good look at the city in daylight, she thought, hugging herself. She could hardly wait. She was glad now that she'd agreed to come. She'd never done anything like this in her life. It was scary, and it was exciting, and she wouldn't have missed it for the world. For once Marron Chestnut was really living, and she liked it. +++  
  
Ohayo minna-san! O-genki desu ka? Masaka! I have a Japanese proficiency with my org tomorrow. Wish me luck. I'm really gonna need it. Onegaishimasu?  
  
It was Aerith Gainsborough's birthday yesterday! Omedetou gozaimsu o- tanjoubi!  
  
Today is my mom's birthday! Of course, I'd die if she found out that I do this among other things with what little free time I have, but I'm feeling sweeter than usual today. :)  
  
Thank you for the reviews!  
  
Mata ne! 


	13. Who doesn't like shopping?

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 13  
  
Who doesn't like shopping?  
  
"This is the biggest Chinatown in the country," Trunks said, as they drove through the narrow streets. Marron gazed avidly out of the window, fascinated by the quaint little restaurants adorned with bold signs in red and gold, the tiny souvenir shops and the tourists of all nationalities who spilled off the crowded sidewalks.  
  
She stared wide-eyed as the cab pulled around a corner restaurant that blazed with red and yellow lights. When Trunks had suggested Chinese food for dinner, she had never imagined anything like this.  
  
Over the wide, glass-fronted entrance two huge lions reared up in front of a giant pagoda, and a doorman resplendent in a green and gold robe greeted the customers at the top of gleaming white marble steps.  
  
The cabdriver deposited them in front of the entrance, and Marron stood for a moment to watch a chattering, laughing group greet the smiling doorman. The women wore chic black dressed, and the men wore ties.  
  
Marron had dressed in what she'd normally wear to go to a Chinese restaurant: a floral skirt and a black cotton sweater. Watching the elegant crowd at the top of the steps, she felt decidedly underdressed.  
  
"Something wrong?" Trunks asked, pausing to rest on his crutches.  
  
She gave him a swift shake of her head, but he must have sensed her hesitation, as he frowned. "You don't like the restaurant?"  
  
"I'm not sure I'm dressed for it."  
  
His brow cleared. "Oh, is that all? Don't worry about it. People tend to dress up in Taurus at night, but nobody takes any notice if you decide to go casual. Look at me, I'm not wearing a tie."  
  
He wasn't, but he still looked elegant in a black polo shirt and slacks, worn with his leather jacket.  
  
He saw her skeptical look and grinner, "Believe me, I'd be wearing jeans if I could get them over this lump of plaster on my foot."  
  
Still not wholly convinced, Marron approached the doorman, who gave a slight bow and called her "Madam."  
  
Inside the restaurant, seated on a brocade-padded booth beneath a hammock of flowers, Marron looked up at the embroidered Chinese lanterns hanging above her head and felt as if she were dreaming. Any moment now she'd wake up in her mediocre apartment in Pisces and see the familiar water stain on the bedroom ceiling.  
  
Although she would never have admitted it to Trunks, she felt overwhelmed by her resplendent surroundings, and would have much preferred a hamburger or a pizza in a cozy little fast-food place where she didn't have to worry about deciphering the novel-length menu.  
  
Standing on the steps with him later while the doorman went to flag down a cab, Marron shivered in the damp, cool air.  
  
Trunks glanced at her in concern. "Are you cold? The sea wind can be biting." Gratified that he'd noticed, she shook her head. "I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."  
  
"I thought so." Trunks smiled down at her. "You let me do most of the talking in there. That isn't like you."  
  
The wind blew a strand of lilac hair across his forehead, and she felt a strong surge to brush it back for him. Resisting the impulse, she returned the smile. "I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."  
  
"Good. Because there are a lot of places I want to show you."  
  
She looked at him warily. "I hope you have a good map. This is the biggest city I've ever been in. I'm not sure I'd now how to find my way around."  
  
He shook his head. "Don't worry, we'll take a cab wherever we want to go. You can't see the sights if you're worrying about driving."  
  
She started to protest, but right then the cab arrived and by the time Trunks had settled himself and she'd climbed in next to him she'd forgotten what she was going to say.  
  
So far he hadn't mentioned anything about work, she thought, listening with only half an ear to Trunks' continuous commentary of the city landmarks. She hoped they would at least work on some of the reports so that she could justify the trip. She'd feel guilty getting paid to just have fun.  
  
She left Trunks at his door, certain that she wouldn't sleep at all, but the minute she sank into the wide, soft bed she closed her eyes and remembered no more until she awoke the next morning to the sound of the soft music from the radio alarm.  
  
Peeking out of the window, she could see nothing but a thick mist that effectively shrouded the view. Her disappointment soon vanished when she took her shower in the gleaming blue and gold bathroom. Even it she couldn't see much of the scenery; it would be fun to explore the city.  
  
After a lot of agonizing, she decided to wear jeans and a sweatshirt under her warm jacket. Taurus, she'd discovered, was a good deal colder that Pisces.  
  
Her phone rang just as she was putting the finishing touches to her face, which amounted to a little more than lipstick and a touch of mascara.  
  
She ran a quick comb through her hair. No matter what she did, it would do its own thing anyway. Hurrying across the room to the phone, she wondered, a little apprehensively, what Trunks had planned for the day.  
  
His cheerful voice greeted her when she spoke. "Hi, are you all prepared for your tour of the city?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Good. First thing on the agenda, I want to shop for something to wear. Most of my wardrobe is at my house at the beach."  
  
She frowned. "Can you manage to go shopping on your crutches?"  
  
"I'll manage. I've hired a car and driver for the day. I explained the situation so he'll be prepared to help when necessary."  
  
She heard him mutter a soft curse and asked quickly. "Mr. Briefs? Are you all right?"  
  
She heard a long sigh, then Trunks said in an odd voice. "I'd feel better it you'd learn to call me Trunks."  
  
"Oh." She felt confused, and sought for something to say.  
  
"So why did you swear?"  
  
"Oh, that. Sorry. Just a little self-pity, I guess. This is a great city, with so much to do, and it's frustrating to be hampered by this damn ankle."  
  
She could well understand how he must feel. "Would you like to go back to Pisces?"  
  
"Not on your life!" He laughed. "After seeing your expression last night at the Golden Palace, I can't wait to show you the rest of the city. The car should be waiting for us by now. Are you ready?"  
  
"I'll be right there." She put down the receiver, wondering if she'd ever felt less ready in her life. She never knew what to expect from Trunks Briefs, and she had an idea that this day promised to be quite and adventure.  
  
The mist had cleared, and Marron was pleased to see the sun shining weakly through the pale haze when she emerged from the hotel. The snowcapped mountains across the bay took her breath away. She was used to seeing mountains, but the view of the impressive city nestled at the foot oft them, surrounded almost entirely by water, made for a spectacular sight.  
  
A long, black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the steps, and she watched the uniformed driver climb out, anxious to see if she recognized the celebrity who had to be inside.  
  
She was shocked when Trunks greeted the driver and she realized that this would be their transportation for the day.  
  
She was still trying to recover from her very first ride in a limo when the car pulled up in front of an expensive men's store in the heart of the city.  
  
She felt a bit self-conscious at first. The solemn, well-dressed gentlemen who assisted them intimidated her, and she wished Trunks had let her wait in the car, instead of insisting that she come in with him.  
  
He sat in an armchair provided by one of the assistants, his bandaged foot stuck out in front of him while he looked around the store. "Take a look for me, would you?" He asked Marron, giving her his helpless look. "I just need a couple of shirts and slacks. The gentleman here will help you."  
  
The gentleman inclined his head. Marron felt sick. She had a problem picking out her own clothes. Following the assistant to the back of the store, she prayed she wouldn't make a fool of herself.  
  
The quiet-spoken elderly man who assisted her soother her fears by making several suggestions, some of which she declined, and offered some advice in answer to her hesitant questions. Finally she headed back to Trunks, followed by her faithful adviser.  
  
"How about this?" She asked Trunks, dangling in front of him a dark blue shirt with a pale lavender collar that matched the binding on the sleeves.  
  
Trunks leaned back in his chair and gave the shirt his full consideration. "I like it," he announced. "We'll take it."  
  
When he approved of everything she chose, except for a pearl gray cashmere vest that her father would have loved and which Trunks said was a little bit conservative for his taste, she heaved a huge sigh of relief. The whole experience had been an ordeal. She was just thankful she didn't have to do that everyday or she'd be a nervous wreck.  
  
When Marron climbed back into the limousine she was surprised when Trunks dropped a package in her lap. She opened it, and was even more astonished to see the pearl gray vest.  
  
"For your father,' Trunks explained, when she looked up at him.  
  
Having seen the exorbitant price tag on the vest, Marron felt embarrassed. "Oh, I couldn't. I mean, he'd love it, but it's too much. I don't think he'd understand."  
  
Trunks grinned. "There's no strings attached, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"Of course not." Marron said, feeling even more uncomfortable. "I just think my father might wonder why you'd buy a perfect stranger such an expensive gift."  
  
"After everything you've told me about him, I feel that I know him. Besides, you don't have to tell him I bought it. I know you wanted to buy it for him. Call it a bonus for your much-appreciated assistance. You've earned it."  
  
She colored, remembering how she'd debated long and hard over the vest before deciding she couldn't afford it. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Briefs-"  
  
"Trunks."  
  
"Er. yes, but I think-"  
  
"You know the trouble with you, Marron?" Trunks murmured, settling down in his seat. "You think too much. Now, just sit back, relax and enjoy this incredible scenery."  
  
She looked back at the vest, fingering the soft material. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It's beautiful and I know he'll love it."  
  
There was no point in trying to explain to Trunks, she decided. He was obviously used to buying expensive gifts whenever the mood took him. It meant nothing to him.  
  
How could she expect him to understand what such a gift would mean to her father? She would have some explaining to do over that one, she thought, smiling at the thought of her father's pleasure when he saw his gift.  
  
+++  
  
Yeah, who doesn't like shopping?  
  
I looooove to shop. That's why I've been surviving on dorm food for some time now. I need to save for another splurge!  
  
New reviewers: Welcome! And thank you for taking time off to review this fic. It will be finished. Actually, it is already finished and is sitting nicely in a diskette. I'm now working on a new one. It's longer than the other two and I still haven't decided on some important stuff. Hehe  
  
Ariele Dawntreader: Thank you for reading Fair! No, this is not shameless advertising. Just happy that someone still reviews it even if it's already finished.  
  
I'm an impatient girl too. I snarl at anyone that says "Patience is a virtue." But I have a lot of activities lined up in the Real World. I'm booked until the end of September. At this rate, I'd have to celebrate my birthday either doing induction rites for org # 3 or hosting a Japanese speech contest for org # 1.  
  
Anyway, that's enough ranting for today. Thanks again for the reviews! Mata ne! 


	14. Bridging the gap

Disclaimer: Not mine'  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 14  
  
Bridging the gap  
  
"Have you ever crossed a suspension bridge?" Trunks asked her as the car sped across a wide bridge over the water.  
  
"You mean like this one?" Marron asked, staring up at the high girders flashing by.  
  
"No, I mean a footbridge. You've seen them in movies. A bridge that's held together by ropes and sways back and forth when you walk across it."  
  
"Oh, that." Marron nodded. "We used to have something like that across a creek near our home in Aquarius. It was about ten feet across, made of ropes and planks, and it swung from side to side. You had to hold on to the rope to keep your balance or you fell into the creek. Is that what you meant?"  
  
Trunks grinned. "Something like that."  
  
Marron caught sight of twin mountains, their snow-capped peaks almost perfectly matched.  
  
"Buffalo Peaks." Trunks told her, when she commented on them. "We've just crossed the Buffalo's Gate Bridge. And the big mountain over there, that's Peregrine Mountain. We'll be eating dinner up there tonight."  
  
"On a mountain?" Marron's stomach churned at the thought.  
  
"Right at the top."  
  
"How do we get up there?"  
  
"You'll see. Trunks leaned forward. "Ah, here we are."  
  
The car pulled onto a gravel parking lot and came to a stop. The first sight that met Marron's eyes was an enormous totem pole, covered in intricate carvings and painted in bright yellow, blue, red and white. Fascinated, she walked around it, staring up at the giant eagle's head that crowned it.  
  
Trunks hopped over to her on his crutches. "Come on, there's something you should see."  
  
She followed him, marveling at how well he managed with his crutches. He made it look so easy, yet she knew the effort it must cost him to get around.  
  
"Where are we going?" She asked as he walked with him down the long winding path, past what appeared to be a native Indian village. Lifelike figures dressed in colorful clothes peeked out from the entrance of a magnificent tepee, while costumed women stood at a wide, smoking barbecue.  
  
The spicy smell of barbecued salmon and hamburgers mad Marron's mouth water. Since she'd skipped breakfast, her mouth begged for a taste of the fragrant food.  
  
Reading her mind, Trunks grinned. "We'll have to lunch here and take a look at the gift shop. But there's something I want you to see first."  
  
Turning her back on the enticing aromas, Marron walked with him to where a small box office sat next to some iron gates. Trunks paused to buy two tickets than held them up in front of her face. "Are you ready for the suspension bridge?" She was beginning to feel a little nervous. "It's not too high up, is it? I'm not very good with heights."  
  
"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe."  
  
She stood back to let him through the gate, holding it open for him. Then she followed him up to where people stood looking out at what appeared to be a canyon.  
  
Trunks reached the group and looked back at her. "Okay, here we go."  
  
She looked past him, and nearly shrieked. Stretching out in front of her was the longest rope bridge she'd ever seen. There were people walking on it, clinging to the frail handrails of the swaying structure.  
  
She moved closer, almost afraid to look down. When she did, her head spun and her stomach felt as if it had turned a somersault. Far, far below her, water churned across jagged rocks in a torrent of white foam. "How. far down is that?" She asked, not really wanting to know.  
  
"About two hundred and thirty feet, give or take an inch," Trunks said cheerfully. "But if it bothers you, don't look down. Just look across. There's Courage Canyon down there, and the bridge spans the river. It's about four hundred and fifty across."  
  
Marron felt sick. Four hundred and fifty feet of swaying, creaking bridge above certain death. This was not what she had in mind for a pleasant day of sightseeing.  
  
"It's perfectly safe," Trunks assured her, turning to face the bridge. "It's steel cable and is tested every single day. Just hold on and take it one step at a time. You'll be just fine."  
  
He swung forward onto the first step and Marron gasped. "You're not serious? You can't go out there on crutches."  
  
"I'm not. I'm going out on one. I'll hold on with the other hand." Trunks propped one of his crutches against the railing. "Come on, it's fun."  
  
This was crazy, Marron thought, watching Trunks swing onto the wooden planks. This was insane. She couldn't do it. She simply couldn't go out there alone. He could lose his balance and topple over. it didn't bear thinking about.  
  
Cursing her employer for his recklessness, Marron stepped onto the bridge. It didn't feel too bad, though for a moment she felt queasy as the wide wooden planks moved slightly beneath her feet.  
  
Trunks was ahead of her, moving deftly one hop at a time. Determined to catch up wit him, Marron gamely stepped out. The further she went, the more the bridge swayed.  
  
Terrified to look down, she kept her gaze firmly on Trunks. He reached the canter of the bridge, then paused, turning back to watch her progress.  
  
She gritted her teeth and kept moving, her fingers gripping the cable barrier until her fingers ached. She was almost up to Trunks when her foot caught against one of the wooden planks. Already unsure of her balance, she tripped forward.  
  
Marron yelped, and Trunks moved at the same time, letting go of his crutch to grab her. His arms closed around her and together they flopped in an inelegant heap onto the swaying floor.  
  
Marron's heart thumped so hard and fast she was sure she was having a heart attack. She didn't know it if was fright, or the fact that she was lying facedown on top of her employer with his arms firmly clasped around her waist.  
  
She couldn't see his face as it was buried in her chest, but she could feel his body shaking beneath her as she struggled vainly to get up off him. "Mr. Briefs," she said, her thundering heartbeat making her voice breathless, "you can let go of me now."  
  
His grip relaxed and she scrambled onto her knees, her anxiety for him overriding her embarrassment. "Are you all right? Did you hurt your ankle again?"  
  
He shook his head, but he'd clamped his lips tightly together and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
Certain that he must be in agony, she shook his shoulder hard. "Where are you hurting? Is it your ankle? Shall I go for help?"  
  
Again he shook his head, but she looked up to where several people were watching them from a distance. She was about to open her mouth to shout for help when Trunks made an odd sound. She looked down again, just in time to see him explode into helpless laughter.  
  
She scowled at him, cross with him for scaring her that way. But he only roared louder, lying on his back, his deep voice echoing across the canyon until finally out of breath, his hearty gusts of laughter died away.  
  
She waited, grim-faced, while he struggled into a sitting position.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, apparently struggling to keep a straight face. "I knew you were scared, but if you could have seen your expression."  
  
"You could have fallen right over that railing." She stood, none too steadily, and grabbed hold of the cable. "You might have a death wish, Mr. Briefs, but I'd just as soon not witness its fulfillment."  
  
He sobered at once. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But it is perfectly safe. You'd have to practically climb over the side to fall off."  
  
She looked at the fragile barrier between her and the sheer drop below and shuddered. It didn't help when she bent to retrieve his crutch and caught sight of the river beneath her. If this was Trunks' idea of having fun, she wanted no part of it.  
  
Her knees trembled so badly on the way back she was afraid they wouldn't hold her up. She didn't think she'd be able to eat the barbecued salmon she ordered for lunch, but it tasted so good she managed after all and gradually her panic subsided.  
  
Trunks insisted on hobbling around the Trading Post before they left. The vast array of native art, handcrafted leathers and unusual gifts fascinated her, and she spent a long time making up her mind between a beautiful but impractical glass figurine of a dolphin, or a soft, expensive, decorative hand-knitted sweater.  
  
She finally decided on a pair of silver earrings, then spent another half hour buying souvenirs to send home to her family.  
  
Happy with her purchases, she went back to where Trunks waited for her, resting on a chair near the door.  
  
He'd done some shopping too, she noticed, and she picked up the large bag to carry it back to the car for him. He waited until they were once more on the toad before dumping the bag in her lap, saying, "These are for you."  
  
Warily, she opened it, and pulled out the sweater she'd admired, the glass dolphin, and a gorgeous black leather west embroidered in bright emerald green, pink and yellow across the front. It wasn't something she would have chosen, but she knew instantly that it would look fantastic with her long floral skirts.  
  
She looked up at him, too overwhelmed to say anything.  
  
"To make up for scaring you," Trunks said gently. "Sometimes I forget that there are nice, sane, normal people in the world who know better than to take unnecessary risks."  
  
She smiled, feeling ridiculously close to tears. "Thank you. But it really wasn't necessary. I'm just not very good with heights."  
  
"I know. Which is why we have a change of plans for this afternoon. I was going to suggest a helicopter ride over the canyon, but after this morning, I think a nice leisurely cruise across the harbor would be better."  
  
She nodded, feeling miserable for having spoiled his fun, but forced to agree with him. The thought o getting into a helicopter made her ill. "I'd like that."  
  
"As for dinner on the mountain, I'm going to let you make the decision about that."  
  
Her first instinct was to tell him no way, but she still felt guilty about missing the helicopter ride. "How would we get up there?"  
  
"Cable car. It's really not that steep and it's perfectly safe, I promise you."  
  
She took a deep breath. "I'd like to go."  
  
He gave her a look of approval that warmed her enough to melt away her anxiety. "Good girl. You'll enjoy it, I promise you."  
  
Much to her surprise, she really did enjoy the trip. The cable car was bigger and much more secure than she'd imagined, and the view from the top of Peregrine Mountain took her breath away.  
  
Seated at a window table, with the light of the city spread out below them, the candlelight casting a soft glow across the table, Marron began to relax. A glass of wine really helped, and soon she was making Trunks laugh with some of her anecdotes about her family.  
  
"This is wonderful," she said when the plates had been cleared away and they sat enjoying a cup of fragrant coffee. "I had a really great time today."  
  
Trunks' eyes crinkled as he smiled at her across the table. "You forgive me for scaring you so badly this morning?"  
  
She shrugged. "I scared myself. Silly, I guess."  
  
"No, it's not silly." He reached out and patted her hand, and she knew she'd feel the touch of his fingers all night long. "Don't ever apologize for who you are, Marron. You are unique, and quite special. I can't remember when I've had a better time than I had today."  
  
More smooth phrases, she told herself, but try as she might, she could not forget the warm sincerity in his eyes when he'd spoken those words. And she was right. She felt the touch of his fingers on her and all nightlong.  
  
All too soon they were once more driving back in the rain toward Pisces. Marron felt exhausted, and a little depressed. She had fallen in love with the beautiful city of Taurus and it was hard to leave.  
  
But it was more than that. She felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction with herself, as if she had let herself down somehow, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the constant reminder of how ill equipped she was to deal with Trunks' lifestyle. The vast difference between their two worlds had never been more evident than in the past two days.  
  
Even Trunks was quiet on the way home. He was probably tired, Marron thought, glancing at him with concern. It must have been an ordeal for him hobbling around on one foot, though he never let it slow him down.  
  
"Are you okay?" She asked after a particularly long silence had her worried.  
  
"I'm fine. How about you? Did you really have a good time?"  
  
"I had a wonderful time. Thank you. It was the best trip I've ever had. Though I feel guilty that we didn't get any work done."  
  
Trunks smiled. "Your job was to keep me company. And you did it very well. I should be thanking you."  
  
"I don't think Mrs. Morris would agree with you."  
  
"To hell with Mrs. Morris."  
  
Marron let out a shocked gasp, but she couldn't help smiling.  
  
When they finally reached the River Rat's mooring, she was so tired she could hardly see. She helped carry Trunks' bags up to the ramp for him, then stood awkwardly waiting while he unlocked the door.  
  
"Just go home," he said, as the door swung open. "You must be exhausted. You can take the car back in the morning."  
  
She dropped the bag inside the kitchen, then backed out onto the porch. "Well, thank you again, Mr. Briefs. I really had a wonderful time."  
  
He stood in the doorway, balanced easily on his one good foot. His expression was hard to define, but she thought his eyes held a hint of sadness. "Trunks," he said softly. "Ah, sweet Marron, my day will be truly perfect when you can call me Trunks, instead of Stuffy old Mr. Briefs."  
  
She had learned to accept his compliments as nothing but polite, empty phrases. Even so, as she gazed up at his smiling face, she felt a nagging ache deep inside that had nothing to do with missing Pisces. It went much deeper than that.  
  
It was the ache of loss, or rather, what could never be.  
  
For the first time in her life, she cursed the family genes that had dealt her a different hand than those of her sisters.  
  
"Good night, Trunks," she whispered, and fled down the ramp before she let him see how much she had learned to care for a black-hearted rebel without a conscience.  
  
+++  
  
The End  
  
Would you truly hate me if it ended here? Tell me what you think. 


	15. She thinks he thinks

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 15  
  
She thinks. he thinks.  
  
Marron arrived at the River Rat the next morning with a firm resolve to act as it the trip to Taurus had never been. She was once more the temp, and Trunks was her employer. She would concentrate on her work, and adopt a friendly but businesslike attitude.  
  
In spit of her conviction that it was for the best, she couldn't help feeling a little hurt when Trunks seemed only too happy with that arrangement.  
  
In fact, his whole attitude had changed. He no longer teased her, or made frivolous remarks about his private life. Marron had to admit she was relieved about that. She wasn't sure she could listen to any more comments about his glamorous girlfriends.  
  
Although he remained friendly and casual, however, she was aware of a growing tension between them that she couldn't explain. She put it down to Trunks' cabin fever, although he hadn't mentioned anything about wanting to go out again.  
  
Then, a few days after the trip to Taurus, he surprised her by saying, "I'd like to go down to my house today. I need to pick up some more clothes. That's if you don't mind driving to the beach?"  
  
"Of course not. I'll be happy to take you," she assured him. Privately she thought it would do him good. He needed a change of scene, to the point where she'd had to prompt him several times when he was supposed to be dictating notes to her.  
  
He'd dressed in slacks and a gray sweater for the trip to the beach. Marron wished she'd worn her jeans, instead of her customary skirt and blouse. It was too late to go home and change then, she decided, as she settled Trunks in the front seat of her aging car.  
  
She was a bit embarrassed about the cramp, shabby interior of the car, but Trunks insisted on her driving it to the beach. Besides, after the way he'd been living the past few days, she assured herself, he wasn't experiencing anything he wasn't already used to dealing with.  
  
She started up the engine, wincing when it coughed a couple of times before catching hold. The windshield wipers weren't too effective, and Trunks would be forced to watch the road through a smeary mist, but otherwise, he seemed quite comfortable as they took off.  
  
He was adapting remarkably well to roughing it, Marron thought as they left the city behind and bounced along the highway to the coast. In spite of his claustrophobic surroundings, he didn't seem to miss his frenetic lifestyle. He hadn't mentioned his women friends in days.  
  
In fact, in view of the nonappearance of women aboard his houseboat, Marron was beginning to wonder if all those stories about his exploits had been exaggerated a little in order to impress her.  
  
If it wasn't for the article she'd read about him, she would have found it hard to believe if someone had told her that Trunks was a womanizing playboy who lived in the lap of luxury.  
  
Just how much luxury Marron hadn't fully comprehended, however, until she got a look at his house. She recognized it at once. It was the mansion he'd shown her in the picture. She should have known, she thought ruefully as she drove up in front of the magnificent portals. Why else would he carry a picture of it around with him?  
  
The house was even more beautiful than she'd imagined. Thick, pale blue carpet stretched across enormous rooms, elegantly furnished and decorated. A swimming pool sat in a small courtyard in the center of the house, with a tennis court behind it.  
  
Curving staircases swept up to the top floor and basement, where Marron was amazed to see a small comfortable theater with a huge TV screen and several comfortable armchairs lined up in front of it. There was even a popcorn machine in one corner, and a fully stocked bar in another.  
  
Upstairs, glass doors led off the huge master bedroom onto a long balcony, which overlooked the ocean, and Trunks had been right bout the bathroom. The River Rat would just about have fit inside.  
  
Eyeing the whirlpool tub, Marron wondered how many women had entertained in that fabulous house. She'd counted five bedrooms, and that wasn't counting the suite of rooms built above the three-car garage.  
  
Trunks' sleek, black Ferrari sat in solitary splendor in all that space, and Marron wondered ruefully what he must have thought about her poor old battered compact.  
  
Utterly overwhelmed by everything she saw, Marron became more and more quiet as Trunks led her through room after room. The kitchen looked as if it belonged in a luxury hotel instead of a private house.  
  
Trunks sank down in a pale green wicker chair against in the breakfast nook and propped his crutch against the wall. He was managing quite well with only one now, and according to his latest check up, was healing faster than the doctor had first estimated.  
  
In another week, Marron reckoned, he'd get to cast off his ankle and would probably be able to drive to work again. And that would be the end of her contract with Trunks Briefs.  
  
Perhaps it was just as well, she thought as she looked around the expansive kitchen with its gleaming appliances that looked as if they'd never been used. All this grandeur could make her discontented with her own modest lifestyle if she hung around it too long.  
  
Perhaps it was, she would miss this job terribly. She'd miss the excitement, and the unpredictable variety of her days. Most of all, she acknowledged reluctantly, she'd miss her client.  
  
She looked at him now, and was concerned to notice the pallor of his lean face. "Are you all right? Is your ankle bothering you?"  
  
"I'm just a little tired," Trunks said, giving her the ghost of a smile. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."  
  
"I can see why, when you've been used to all this." Marron swept her hand out in a wide gesture. "I don't know how you've stood living on the houseboat this long."  
  
"Well, I have to admit, it's a little cramped," Trunks conceded, "but to be perfectly honest, it hasn't been nearly as bad as I expected. I've rather enjoyed having to make do for a change. And it's a whole lot better now that you've worked your special magic on it. I don' know how you did it, but it's almost homey. Though I imagine that working conditions on the River Rat are a good deal more primitive than anything you've enjoyed lately."  
  
Marron laughed. "I've worked in worse. Though not much worse, I have to admit." She dropped her purse on the spotless counter. "Can I get you anything? Do you need me to pack up some clothes for you?"  
  
He shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I can manage. If I need your help I'll yell. Why don't you sit down and relax while I'm collecting a few things together? I've been working you pretty hard lately. You deserve a rest."  
  
She watched him get up from the chair and hobble off to the stairs. It would have been so easy for him just to sit there and issue her orders. He really was a considerate man, she thought with a wistful smile. No wonder so many women fell for him. He could be so charming, and so terribly sexy at times.  
  
He had a way of smiling, as if he were enjoying a delicious secret, that could make her toes curl. Yet he didn't seem to notice his effect on her. Or maybe she was just a good actress, Marron thought, wandering into the sumptuous living room.  
  
It had been a strain on her, hiding her reactions to his magnetic charm. There had been times when she'd found it difficult to suppress a flicker of hope that he might begin to see her as a woman rather than just his employee.  
  
But now that she had seen where he lived, how he lived, she realized more than ever that he was so far removed from her world that no matter what she thought, or did, it wouldn't make any difference.  
  
Trunks Briefs was one of the haves and she was a have-not. And it had nothing to do with money or his material possessions.  
  
It was a way of life, a matter of who she was, or rather, who she wasn't.  
  
The woman who was perfect was perfect for Trunks would know how to dress, style her hair, confident in selecting the right perfumes for her flawless skin. She'd probably speak French fluently, and be familiar with quaint little towns in Switzerland, the latest fashions in skiwear, and the best restaurants in Paris.  
  
She'd make clever and witty remarks, spend her mornings working out to keep her fabulous figure, and more than likely she'd know the latest trends on the stock market.  
  
In short, she wasn't Marron Chestnut. Nor would she ever be. So she might as well drop the day dreaming, Marron told herself sternly, and keep her feet firmly planted on the ground because that was right where she belonged.  
  
Anyway, she was perfectly happy with her life. Or she would be, if only she could find someone to share it with her. The problem was, it would be hard to find someone as interesting, fun to be with or as downright exciting as Trunks Briefs.  
  
Trunks was deep in thought on the way back to Pisces. His little plan had backfired on him, and he wasn't happy about it. Ever since Marron had more or less told him that she was a virgin, he'd begun to notice more and more how different she was from the women he usually met.  
  
Not just in looks, but in every aspect of her personality. She was completely unaffected; she didn't have an insincere bone in her body. He liked the quiet, efficient way she got things done, and he enjoyed her common sense outlook in life. She was stimulating company, constantly challenging him to stay on his toes, and making him laugh with her quirky sense of humor. Most of all, she didn't spend her time trying to impress him. Quite the opposite to most of his female acquaintances.  
  
In fact, he had to admit his pride was more than a little wounded at her indifference in that respect. And that's what worried him. He was afraid he was becoming just a little too interested in Marron Chestnut.  
  
Trunks shifted his injured foot to a more comfortable position and stared grimly out of the window at the dripping firs as they raced by.  
  
He'd taken great care not to get seriously involved with a woman. Most of his so-called romantic encounters that had earned him his reputation were blown out of proportion by his female companions in order to save face. He never went on a date with anyone without making it very clear where she stood. He wasn't interested in a permanent commitment and that was that.  
  
The problem was, he could very easily become interested in Marron.  
  
At first it had been purely sexual. He'd fantasized about making love to her, until she'd told him she was a virgin. That's when things had become complicated. He'd started concentrating on other things about her, and the more he got to know her, the more wonderful qualities he discovered.  
  
Even her practicality and take-charge attitude, which drove him crazy at first, now seemed translated into strong and valuable assets in a permanent companion.  
  
That kind of thinking had been seriously worried. He didn't want to get involved. He was perfectly happy with his life the way it was - no responsibilities, no hang-ups and answerable to no one.  
  
He'd put his preoccupation with Marron down to the fact he'd been closeted with her in a cramped environment for so long. Except for the trip to Taurus, which he'd enjoyed far more than he'd expected, he hadn't seen another soul except Marron. No wonder he was getting dangerous ideas.  
  
That's why he'd suggested taking her down to his house.  
  
He'd figured that seeing her in his own environment, he'd get things back into their proper perspective.  
  
Except it hadn't happened. Instead, he'd pictured her cooking in his well- ordered kitchen at the vast state-of-the-art stove that had yet o be lit. He'd envisioned her lounging next to him in the armchair in his home theater or lazily swimming with him in the pool.  
  
Worst of all, he'd imagined her in his bed, and had spent a few miserable minutes getting his body back under control again.  
  
Nothing seemed to be working. Thank heaven he only had another week or two, and then she'd be out his life and he wouldn't be tormented by these crazy fantasies that had no place in the grand scheme of his life.  
  
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Marron's voice said next to him. "There are still a couple of hours of the day left."  
  
He looked out, surprised to see they were back at the River Rat's mooring. He'd been so deep in thought he hadn't noticed.  
  
"No," he said, reaching for the door handle, "Let's call it a day. I'm feeling tired." It was true he hadn't slept well. His dreams had been too disturbing.  
  
Marron jumped out of the car and rushed around to help him. He could feel the warmth of her fingers through the sleeve of his jacket. The longing to take her in his arms almost suffocated him.  
  
"I'll come over tomorrow and cook dinner for you," she said, concern clouding her beautiful blue eyes.  
  
He frowned, realizing the weekend had snuck up on him. "Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, trying to sound casual. "I'm sure you have better things to do than hanging around here all weekend."  
  
It hadn't come out right. He could see by her face that she was hurt.  
  
"Oh, well, if you'd rather I don't," she said in a tight off-hand voice that didn't deceive him for a minute.  
  
He weakened at once. He had no defense against that bleak look in her eyes. "Of course I wouldn't rather you didn't," he said warmly, "I just don't want to be selfish, that's all. I've used up enough of your free time as it is."  
  
"I really don't mind." She turned away. "But then I'm sure you can find someone else to come over and cook your dinner for you."  
  
He would have laughed at that if she hadn't looked so miserable. "No one who can cook half as well as you do. If you're really sure you don't mind, I'd love to have you cook dinner for me tomorrow night."  
  
Her face lit up at once. "About six? I could bring the Scrabble again."  
  
He groaned. "You always beat me at Scrabble."  
  
"You're getting better. You only lost by fifteen points the other night."  
  
"All right, bring the Scrabble."  
  
"You'll beat me tomorrow, you'll see."  
  
He wagged a finger at her. "I don't want you throwing the game."  
  
"I never throw a game."  
  
She looked so adorable it was all he could do not to fling his arms around her and kiss her until she cried for mercy. "No," he said slowly, "your conscience would never allow you to throw a game."  
  
She gave him a troubled look. "You make me sound prissy."  
  
He laughed at that. "Prissy?"  
  
"That's what you called me the first day I worked for you."  
  
"I did? I don't remember saying that."  
  
"You were drinking. What's that saying? Only fools and drunks tell the truth."  
  
"If that's so, then we're in more trouble than I thought."  
  
Her face cleared. "See you tomorrow." She flapped her hand at him and climbed back into her car.  
  
He watched her until she was out of sight. The silence settled around him, bleak, cold and incredibly lonely. He found himself longing for tomorrow.  
  
Hunching his shoulders, he hobbled up the ramp to the River Rat. He was in deep trouble. And if he didn't do something about it soon, someone was going to get deeply hurt.  
  
+++  
  
I went away for a couple of days and had tons of fun at my get-away. I swear, I have an old soul. I wouldn't be enjoying old Spanish colonial houses and cobblestone streets if I were a being that has not been reincarnated yet.  
  
I was just teasing you about ending the story last chapter. I wanted to know if you'd like the happy ending or the "other" ending. You see, Leona is a fan for sad endings and I was just wondering. It was fun reading your reactions, though. They were very extreme. Anyway, I won't toy with you anymore so you can now resurrect/ throw away your sporks/ continue reading in peace. That is. until I decide to stir things up again. Hehehe  
  
This was fun! I didn't expect that many people would mind.  
  
Thanks for reading. Mata ne! 


	16. Just like chocolate

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 16  
  
Just like chocolate  
  
Marron spent most of Saturday afternoon trying to decide what to wear that evening. She laid out several outfits on the bed, but none of them seemed right. She'd had her hair cut that morning, and the beautician had styled it so that it fluffed pleasantly around from her head.  
  
Marron really liked the new look, and wanted something stylish to go with it. The problem was, none of her clothes really had style. She didn't have time to go shopping for a new wardrobe, even if she could have afforded it. She closed her eyes, remembering some of the gorgeous outfits she'd seen in the fancy store windows in Taurus. What she wouldn't give to be able to afford something like that.  
  
She opened her eyes again with a sigh. Even is she had the great clothes, she told herself, she wouldn't look that great in them. The mannequins were tall and graceful, and impossibly thin. No, she would just have to do with what she had.  
  
Feeling depressed, she picked up a black wool skirt and studied it with a jaded eye. The slim lines of it were okay, but stylish it wasn't. Maybe if she shortened it a little.  
  
Without giving herself time to change her mind, she found a pair of scissors and hacked a hunk off the bottom of the skirt. She should have measured it first, she thought crossly when she held it up to examine it. One was definitely dipped lower than the other.  
  
She began hunting for her tape measure, wondering how she could have made such a stupid mistake. Living in the city was having a bad effect on her, she decided when she measured the hem and found it almost two inches off on one side. She was getting careless.  
  
By the time she'd straightened the edge and hemmed it she'd lost another couple of inches. Certain she'd ruined the garment, she tried it on. The edge of the skirt hovered a good three inches above her knee.  
  
Marron gulped. This definitely was not her style. Then again, everyone was wearing them this short nowadays. The skirt certainly looked modern, and with her black high-heeled shoes and her best pink silk shirt, maybe she wouldn't look quite so antiquated.  
  
Her nerve was beginning to desert her when she arrived at the River Rat that evening. She wore her raincoat, which covered her bare knees, and at the last minute she almost turned back to change into something a little more modest.  
  
He probably wouldn't even notice, she tried to assure herself when she raised her hand to rap on the door.  
  
Trunks must have been watching for her. The door opened almost immediately. "You're right on time," he announced, and peered out at the murky river. "It's still raining, I see."  
  
Marron stepped inside into the kitchen, and shook out her umbrella over the sink. "I heard on the radio that people are getting worried about the high water in the rivers." She started to unbutton her raincoat.  
  
Trunks smiled. "They get paranoid every year when it rains like this. Sometimes we get one or two streams go over their banks, but nothing really serious, though a few people do get flooded out every year. It always amazes me that people continue to live so close to the water when."  
  
His voice died away when she slipped out of her coat.  
  
Marron avoided looking at him by opening the fridge and peering inside. "I thought I'd cook that ham I bought the other day. You do like ham, I hope?"  
  
Behind her, Trunks cleared his throat. "I love ham," he said, sounding just a little hoarse.  
  
She withdrew her head from the fridge and looked at him. "Are you catching a cold?"  
  
He shook his head, though he wore a slightly dazed expression on his face. "You look different."  
  
He'd sounded almost accusing, Marron thought, feeling a little letdown. She'd expected. hoped for a different reaction. This was an entirely new, daring look for her. She'd hoped he would at least approve.  
  
"I got my hair cut," she said defensively. "I'm a new customer at the shop. I guess the woman who did my hair felt challenged or something."  
  
"It looks very nice," Trunks said, still in that strangled voice.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Are those." He cleared his throat again. "Is that a new outfit too?"  
  
Marron sighed. "No, it's an old skirt with a new look, I cut the bottom off." She leaned over to look at her knees. "Is it too short, do you think?"  
  
"I. no. it's fine." He took a deep breath. "I'm just not used to seeing you. look like this."  
  
"You don't like it," she mumbled, beginning to feel like a fool.  
  
"I didn't say tat." Trunks now wore a determined somewhat fixed smile. "Turn around."  
  
She pivoted slowly on her high heels, giving him an anxious look when she faced him again. "Well?"  
  
His eyes were warm when he looked at her. "You look wonderful," he said softly. "Absolutely wonderful."  
  
The expression in his eyes unnerved her. She wasn't used to being looked at with such ardent approval. She had to remind herself that Trunks was well practiced in gazes like that, and probably wasn't even aware of the effect it could have on a vulnerable women.  
  
She couldn't quite quell the rush of warm excitement, however, when she beamed at him. "I'm glad you like it."  
  
"Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine?"  
  
"I'll have one with dinner." She made an effort to collect her thoughts. "Now go and sit down while I get the ham on."  
  
"I'd rather stay here and watch you."  
  
She felt breathless and shy, and couldn't meet his gaze. He was really piling on the attention tonight, she thought, turning back to the fridge to pull out the ham.  
  
"I'm just going to stick this in the oven," she told him. "It won't take long. I bought a can of pineapple to go with it, and I'll bake a couple of potatoes."  
  
She was talking too much. It was ridiculous to feel this nervous all of a sudden. Nothing had changed. He often said things like that. Only he didn't usually say them with that fervent gleam in his eyes.  
  
She began to panic, wondering, if she'd given him the wrong impression. Her stomach felt squishy inside when she thought about what he might do. Then she regained her common sense.  
  
No, she told herself firmly, Trunks wouldn't try to take advantage of her. he was just being nice, that was all.  
  
She was relieved when he mumbled something about laying the table and grabbed knives and forks out of the drawer.  
  
Left alone in the kitchen she could breath again, and she concentrated on getting the meal prepared.  
  
When she went into the living room, Trunks sat on the couch watching a news report on the wet weather.  
  
"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour," she said, taking great care to keep her skirt pulled down as low as possible as she sat down on a chair.  
  
Trunks barely looked up. "That's fine." He picked up the remote and started flipping through the stations.  
  
"I brought the Scrabble," Marron said, wondering if she'd said something to upset him.  
  
"Good." He paused at a station showing a golf game and seemed intensely interested in the scores.  
  
Leaving him alone, Marron went back into the kitchen. She couldn't help smiling to herself. What would his glamorous girlfriends say, she wondered, if they could see him now, hunched on a threadbare couch, peering at a tiny, portable television with reception so bad it was difficult to recognize the images?  
  
Thinking of Trunks' women friends depressed her, and she promptly put them out of her mind. They weren't here tonight and she was. It was very likely the last weekend she would spend with Trunks, and she was going to make the most of it.  
  
He was quieter than usual throughout dinner, and she was beginning to worry about him when she opened up the Scrabble board later. He seemed determined to concentrate on the game, to the point of ignoring her, and seemed to take forever to form his words.  
  
Before long, Marron was falling behind in points. She had an X and a Q, but no vowels, and had to pass three times before she finally picked up an E.  
  
She watched Trunks place his tiles on the board, and leaned over to read what they said. "Rebar? What's that?"  
  
"It's a steel bar used to reinforce concrete," Trunks said, looking perfectly serious.  
  
Marron sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to lose this game."  
  
"I certainly hope so. This is the hardest I've worked in weeks."  
  
He grinned at her and, delighted that he'd apparently recovered from whatever was bothering him, she grinned back. "That's what makes winning all the more satisfying."  
  
"And I intend to win tonight." He picked up five tiles and set them on his rack.  
  
Marron placed three of her tiles on the board, leaving her still holding the Q, X and the E. There were only two tiles left, and she picked them up. She was delighted to see the U, and the last tile was an I. She frowned, wondering if "quix" was a word.  
  
Trunks placed three more tiles, forming the word "site."  
  
Marron's heart thumped. All she had to do was add her letter to make "exquisite," Trunks had only four tiles left. Unless he came up with something spectacular, she would beat him by several points.  
  
She wavered, wanting so much for him to win. She could throw the game right here, and he'd never know. But he wouldn't want to win that way, and she had too much respect for him to fake it. With a sigh, she placed her tiles. "That's the game," she said. "Sorry."  
  
"Not quite." He laid down his four tiles. "Ozone, with the Z on a triple letter. I think that's my game."  
  
She stared at the board in astonishment for a moment, then looked up at Trunks' triumphant face. "You did it!" She exclaimed with genuine delight. Then without thinking, she did something she would have done to any member of her family. She leaned forward and threw her arms around his neck.  
  
Only Trunks wasn't one of her brothers. He was Trunks, warm, exciting, and apparently very surprised. He sat deathly still and, horrified at her impetuous behavior, she tried to pull back.  
  
Before she could remove her arms, however, Trunks muttered something under his breath and closed his arms around her. Her heart soared as his mouth- hot, eager and demanding- covered hers.  
  
She didn't even try to resist. Everything seemed to explode around her as he gathered her closer. She'd been kissed before, but nothing like this. All kinds of strange and wonderful things were happening to her body- and she wanted more. so much more.  
  
She knew now that she'd been waiting for this moment all of her life. In all her wildest fantasies, she'd never expected to feel like this. She wanted to get closer to him. She needed to get closer to him.  
  
She felt tender, yet ferocious, vulnerable yet powerful, hovering in sweet, breathless agony between laughter and tears.  
  
She'd placed the word on the board, but only now did she realize the true meaning of exquisite.  
  
This was exquisite- this wild, tempestuous sensation of Trunks' hard body crushing hers, his mouth warm and persistent, his strong hands kneading her back as if he couldn't get enough of her.  
  
His lips slid away from hers to nestle in her neck. "Marron," he whispered against her skin, "what are you doing to me?"  
  
"Making you feel as good as I do, I hope," she whispered back, curling her fingers into his soft, silky hair. He groaned, and the sound made her want to cry.  
  
"This is crazy," he muttered.  
  
"I know." She was past caring. All she wanted was to go on holding him. "I think it's time you went home," he said, looking immeasurably sad for some reason.  
  
She was close to tears herself. She nodded, and got unsteadily to her feet. Her knees felt shaky, and she had trouble focusing properly, "I'll get my coat."  
  
"I'll get it." Trunks rose, and reached for his crutch, then hobbled swiftly over to the door.  
  
She followed him, wondering if she should apologize, and feeling incredibly awkward now that the heat of the moment had passed.  
  
He held her coat for her while she slipped her arms into it, and she buttoned it. She felt dazed and disoriented, as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep. He opened the door, and she took a deep breath of the cool, damp air, hoping it would revive her.  
  
"You'll be okay to drive home?" He asked anxiously.  
  
She laughed, and it didn't sound like her laugh all. "I only had one glass of wine," she said, stepping out onto the ramp. "I'll be fine."  
  
She looked up at him, and something curled deep inside her when he brushed her cheek with his fingers.  
  
"Good night, Marron," he murmured with such tenderness she felt tears dampen her eyes.  
  
"Good night, Trunks." She floated down the ramp to her car, turning to wave before she climbed in. He stood silhouetted in the doorway and she couldn't see his face. She didn't need to. Every line, every indent, every pore was indelibly imprinted on her mind. And would be for all time.  
  
+++  
  
Isn't Trunks just delicious here? I had a hard time trying to keep from biting my lip while I was typing this. It's a reaction I have towards the male species when they do something that I like, which is very seldom. I'm a very picky person. But maybe it was just the effect of the chocolate bar I'm eating? I don't think so. It's definitely Trunks' fault. (takes a huge bite from the poor chocolate bar that has happily met its doom)  
  
Oh, and if anyone was kind enough to wonder why I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth: the culprit is school. Yes, I've been working myself too hard and I am updating on a weekday because my immune system forced me to take a break. Yup, I'm ill. 


	17. Surprise breakfast

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 17  
  
Surprise breakfast  
  
Trunks waited until the car was out of sight before closing the door with a heavy thud. He opened a cupboard and took down the bottle of brandy he hadn't touched since the first day Marron had come to work for him.  
  
Taking it with him, he made his way back to the couch and sank down on it. He uncorked the brandy and took a long swig from the bottle, screwing up his face when the fiery liquid hit his throat.  
  
He sat for along time, trying not to think about anything except the rain pounding on the window and the wind whistling through the cracks in the roof.  
  
Finally he set the bottle down and gazed moodily at the blank TV screen. He had to do something. He couldn't allow himself to lose control like that again. He had to put a stop to this right now, before Marron got the wrong idea.  
  
If he could have foreseen this happening, he would have taken serious steps to prevent it right from the start. But how could he have possibly known that someone like Marron would take his world and turn it completely upside down?  
  
Trunks groaned, and leaned his head in his hands. He had no choice. He had to stop it before it went any further. But how the hell was he going to do it?  
  
He could simply let her go. Tell her he no longer had any use for her services. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd dealt with the problem that way.  
  
Except that he didn't want to fire Marron. She hadn't done anything to deserve being fired. Unlike the others, she wasn't manipulative. Neither was she an opportunist, using underhanded methods to trap him like some of them did.  
  
Marron was just. Marron, and he couldn't fire he for being herself. Besides, it wouldn't look good on her record, and could affect her prospects for a better job. He couldn't let anything happen that would stand in the way of her dream.  
  
He reached for the bottle again, and took another mouthful.  
  
It had been simple enough with the others. She didn't have any experience. Her reaction to his kiss tonight had been genuine, heartfelt and totally unexpected. He hadn't realized, until that moment, that she was the least bit interested in him. Judging by the way she'd kissed him back tonight, he'd been way off on that score.  
  
Knowing her as he did, she wouldn't just brush this whole thing off as a casual incident. She'd be horribly embarrassed for misreading his intentions.  
  
She'd feel betrayed, humiliated and ashamed. He couldn't do that to Marron. He had to find a way to let her down gently. Or even better, he could give her a reason to dump him. That way she'd never have to know that he was aware of how she felt about him.  
  
He frowned, trying to think what he could do that would make her want to leave. He could pile on so much work, drive her so hard she'd be exhausted by the end of the day and glad to get out of there.  
  
No, that wouldn't work. She'd just try that much harder to keep up. It had to be something drastic. He's have to disillusion her somehow, enough for her to walk away and never look back.  
  
Slowly he put the bottle down on the floor. He knew just how to go about it. It was the only way. She might not stay until the end of her contract, but at least it would be her decision, and if he had to manage without her for the last few days, well, it was no more than he deserved.  
  
Feeling wearier than he ever remembered, Trunks got up from the couch and hobbled over to where his briefcase rested against the wall. He opened it and hunted until he found what he wanted.  
  
Carrying the little black book with him, he went back to the couch, sat down and reached for the phone. He had a few calls to make, and he figured it would take him all evening. He flipped the book open on the first page, and jabbed out the number with his thumb.  
  
Marron woke up with a start, wondering why her body seemed to be tingling with excitement. Then she remembered. Trunks had kissed her. It had been the most wonderful, beautiful, incredible thing that had ever happened to her.  
  
What would her sisters say to her now? She thought, hugging herself with delight. Trunks Briefs- popular, handsome, rich Trunks Briefs - had actually kissed plain, dumpy little Marron Chestnut.  
  
She lay still, thrilling again at the memory of his strong features, softened by a warm smile, as he brushed her cheek with his fingers. She'd misjudged him all this time, she thought, remembering how sweet and considerate he could be. He wasn't the kind of man who would use women and casually throw them away, as she'd believed.  
  
He didn't even seem to miss his busy social life anymore, or his numerous women friends. Trunks Briefs was settling down, and for the first time, Marron could allow herself a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he'd realist he could be content to settle for someone who could love him for a lifetime.  
  
Excitement robbed her of her appetite, and she grabbed an apple on her way out the to the car. She was going to surprise Trunks, she decided. She'd cook him a great breakfast, then she'd take him out for a ride. maybe even to Gemini.  
  
She hadn't told him she would be going over there today, so she hoped he hadn't already eaten breakfast. If he had it was probably nothing better than burned toast.  
  
Smiling at the anticipation of the look on his face when he saw her, she drove to the grocery store and bought what she needed.  
  
It seemed to be raining harder than ever when she pulled up at the mooring a little later. She could se the water was higher; it was almost up to the bottom of the ramp. The houseboat seemed to be sitting higher too.  
  
Holding the two sacks of groceries, Marron made her way up to the door. The River Rat groaned and creaked, sounding even more agonizing than it had since the first day she'd seen it.  
  
Marron thumped at the door twice with her knee, noticing as she did so that a length of the veranda had broken away and dangling in the water.  
  
The door opened and trunks looked at her, his hair mussed. His eyes widened when he saw her. "Marron! This is a nice surprise. What brings you out here today?"  
  
"Don't you just love surprises?" She grinned at him and walked past him into the kitchen, where she dumped the sacks on the kitchen counter. "I hope you haven't eaten any breakfast yet."  
  
He shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I just got out of bed.  
  
She looked at him; concerned by the way he didn't seem to be able to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Just tired, I guess."  
  
"You didn't sleep well again?"  
  
"Off and on. I haven't had my bath yet."  
  
"Well, you go ahead and take your bath while I'm cooking breakfast. We're having eggs Benedict today."  
  
"Wow!"  
  
He looked impressed and she smiled happily at him. She wanted so much to go up to him and put her arms around his neck. He'd imagined doing just that all the way over in the car, but now that she was actually standing in front of him, she felt shy and unsure of herself again.  
  
Maybe it would be better to let him make the first move, she decided. She just hoped it wouldn't take him too long.  
  
She was disappointed when he left the kitchen without even attempting to touch her. He'd just gotten up, she told herself. He'd be fine once he'd bathed and had something to eat. She knew from experience that Trunks was never at his best first thing in the morning.  
  
She separated the egg yolks for the sauce and squeezed the lemon, then set the bowl aside while she cooked the bacon. After putting the bacon in the oven to keep warm, she stuck the English muffin halves in the toaster. All she had to do know was make the coffee, then, once Trunks came back from his bath, she could cook the sauce while the eggs were poaching.  
  
Water splashed noisily into the coffeepot as she filled it, and she didn't hear the footsteps on the ramp. When a sharp rap sounded on the door she jumped so violently the water splashed out over her hand. Frowning, she stood the pot on the counter and went to open the door.  
  
An elegant-looking woman stood there gazing at her with an astonished expression on her carefully made-up face. "Who are you?" She demanded, rather rudely, Marron thought.  
  
"My name is Marron Chestnut," she said, her glance taking in the expensive red hairdo and the diamonds flashing in the woman's ears. He newcomer looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't think where she'd seen her. She surely would have remembered meeting someone like this. The woman looked as is she belonged in a department store window.  
  
Remembering her manners, Marron added politely, "Can I help you?"  
  
Before the visitor could answer, Trunks spoke from behind Marron. "Ranko! It's so good to see you."  
  
Ranko gave Marron a seething look, tossed her head and swept past her in a cloud of expensive perfume as if Marron were an annoying weed in her path.  
  
Now Marron recognized her, and her heart sunk. It was the woman pictured in the newspaper article with Trunks.  
  
"Trunks!" Ranko cried, giving him a hug. "How are you, you poor darling? No wonder no one has seen you about lately. Why didn't you tell me you were injured?" She looked down at his foot and uttered a little insincere gasp of horror. "Your poor foot, sweetie! It must be so painful. Never mind, darling, Ranko has come to take care of you, and the first thing we must do is to get you out of this dreadful hovel."  
  
Marron looked at Trunks, hoping against hope that he would set this awful woman straight. Instead, to her intense dismay, he gave Marron a shrug of resignation, then kissed Ranko squarely and far too tenderly on her painted lips.  
  
Steeped in misery, Marron watched the glamorous woman throw arms around Trunks' neck. She murmur something in his car, then laughed - a sound that seemed to cut Marron right in two.  
  
She turned, and made a big production of preparing the coffee. Trunks, she noticed, was wearing the new slacks and polo shirt he'd bought in Taurus. She felt a sharp pang of nostalgia at the memory.  
  
Now that Marron thought about it, he hadn't seemed particularly pleased to see her when she'd arrived. He'd made it pretty clear he hadn't expected her. More than likely he was worried she'd interfere with his plans to entertain Ranko.  
  
"This is Marron," Trunks said, sounding a little strained. "She's my temp. She's helping out until I can get back to work in the office."  
  
He didn't have to sound as if he were apologizing for her being here, Marron thought, her resentment rising. She managed somehow to give Ranko a faint smile. "Nice to meet you," she lied.  
  
Ranko gave her a look that could have frozen the entire river. "How terribly inconvenient for you, darling. Though I wasn't aware that temps worked on a Sunday."  
  
Trunks cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Er. Marron was nice enough to offer to come over and cook me some breakfast. I'm not too proficient when it comes to dealing with a frying pan."  
  
Lisa uttered her affected laugh. "Darling, what man is? But you should have asked me. I'd be happy to bring you something to eat. Or better still, I'll take you out to breakfast."  
  
She gave a disparaging look around the inadequate kitchen. "Much better still," she murmured, her disgusted glance flicking over Marron as if she were personally responsible for the dilapidated state of the houseboat. "I can't imagine why you're hiding yourself away in such appalling conditions, darling. This place can't possibly be healthy for you."  
  
Marron gritted her teeth. She'd thought much the same thing when she'd first seen the River Rat, but now the place had become endearingly familiar to her, and she felt compelled to defend her territory. "It's not as bad as it looks," she said, giving Trunks an accusing glare. "It's quite comfortable for one person actually."  
  
"Really." Ranko looked at her as if she had committed a crime by speaking. She spun around to face Trunks and put her hands possessively on his chest. "Darling, do let's get out of here. Let me drive you out to The Shire, and we can have breakfast and champagne in one of those cozy little nooks overlooking the river. I really can't breathe in all this filth."  
  
Marron resented that. She really resented that. She'd gone through the entire house and there wasn't one corner that hadn't been thoroughly cleansed.  
  
Trunks must have noticed her mutinous scowl. He gave her a helpless, apologetic look that made her want to hit him. "Well, I don't really like to waste food-"  
  
"It won't be wasted," Marron said, her voice as brittle as the eggshells lying in the sink. "I'll take care of it. You go ahead. I'll just clear up here before I leave."  
  
"Okay, if you're sure?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
She barely looked up as Trunks said goodbye to her. Ranko was already out the door, one hand hovering to assist him as he swung outside on his crutch.  
  
Manners dictated that Marron tell Ranko she was pleased to have met her. Luckily, Ranko didn't wait around for the pleasantry, saving Marron the lie.  
  
She deliberately kept her head down as the sound of the car engine disturbed the quiet peace of the river. Instead, she concentrated on dumping the egg yolks down the sink.  
  
She packaged up the muffins and the bacon, and put them in the fridge, then poured herself a cup of coffee and took it into the living room.  
  
Standing at the window, she watched a broken tree limb float down the river, and struggled to put everything back into perspective. It wasn't as if she'd had a date with Trunks or anything. She hadn't even told him she was coming over that morning.  
  
In any case, it wasn't his fault if the woman turned up out of the blue. It would have bee inconsiderate of him to refuse her invitation after she'd come out to see him.  
  
Of course, it was also inconsiderate of Ranko to expect him to drop everything for her. Then again, Ranko had more likely heard that Trunks was alone on the boat and in need of some consoling.  
  
Marron frowned, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug to warm them. She wondered just how Ranko found out where Trunks was staying. He'd told no one, or so he'd said.  
  
A seagull swooped over the water, then wheeled away to disappear into the mist. Marron watched it go, feeling more depressed than ever.  
  
More than likely, she thought, the woman had been hunting for him for a couple of weeks. It wouldn't be that difficult to track him down. Now that Marron really thought about it, she was surprised more of Trunks' friends hadn't been out to visit him on the River Rat.  
  
After all, his secretary knew where he was, as well as other people in the office. It was only a matter of time before word got out.  
  
Marron swallowed the last of the coffee and took the mug back to the kitchen. It took her a few minutes to tidy up, then she put on her jacket and opened the door.  
  
She heard the car door slam as she stepped outside. An attractive woman carrying a large umbrella stepped gingerly onto the ramp, then paused when she saw Marron standing at the top of it.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she called out as Marron stepped down the ramp toward her. "I must be in the wrong place. I was looking for Trunks Briefs. I don't suppose you know where I can find him?"  
  
Why did everyone assume that she couldn't possibly have anything to do with Trunks Briefs? Marron wondered unhappily. Was it really that obvious? "He's gone to breakfast with Ranko," she said shortly, not even bothering to cover for him. Let his women fight over him if that's what they wanted. It was none of her business.  
  
"Oh, really?" The woman who looked like a clone of Ranko, studied her with mild disapproval. "And who are you? His housekeeper?"  
  
"Something like that." Marron brushed past the woman and headed for her car.  
  
"This can't be the houseboat?"  
  
The woman sounded as if she wouldn't be caught dead in it. Which suited Marron just fine. "I'm sure he'll be back by this evening," she called over her shoulder. "Try back then."  
  
The woman said something else, which Marron didn't catch. All she wanted now was to get out of there and go home, where she didn't have to deal with Trunks Briefs and his harem.  
  
+++  
  
I just noticed that your reviews have passed the 100 mark. Oh my, I didn't expect that this would get this much reviews from you.  
  
Doumo arigatou gozaimasu!  
  
So, since I'm happy today, I'll post this chapter up.  
  
To Kazeko: Don't give up your hopes on writing. It's taken me a really long time to get to this. I've been writing fanfiction (long before I learned that there was such a thing as fanfiction) since I was 12. And, I'm not 12 anymore.  
  
Next Saturday is going to be my birthday. Yay me! But. BUT. Of all the darned things that have to happen. I have to work! Yes, work! I don't get paid for it. It's for the good of the org. Darn it all. The things I do for the org. Sounds like "the things we do for love." I loooove that line from Lanfir Leah's Silver Terror. Now that, was, is a masterpiece.  
  
My goddess, Kinomi, also had her birthday last 10 Sept. Now, let us all thank Dende and pray that she lives to write. More! 


	18. Going to Paris

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 18  
  
Going to Paris  
  
Marron spent the rest of the day catching up on her household chores. She put in a call to her parents, and in spite of her attempts to remain cheerful, couldn't keep the dejection out of her voice.  
  
She was somewhat comforted by her father's concern about her low spirits. Somehow she managed to convince him she was feeling just fine and was just a little homesick. Promising to come home for a visit at the first opportunity, she hung up and then spent a miserable evening in front of the TV trying not to imagine what Trunks was doing.  
  
She slept badly, and aware that she was not looking her best, she dressed conservatively the next morning in a maroon shirtdress and a navy blue jacket.  
  
She arrived at the houseboat half expecting to see a line of cars along the riverbank. The mooring was deserted when she got there, however, and she wasn't quite sure if she was happy about that or not. She was feeling a little uneasy about seeing Trunks again. She wasn't sure what to expect.  
  
Trunks, it appeared, had no such qualms. He greeted her as if the day before had never been, though he did have the grace to apologize for running out on her.  
  
"I would have suggested Ranko stay and sample your wonderful cooking," he said, surprising her with a hot cup of coffee. "But I was afraid you wouldn't have enough for all of us and I didn't want to embarrass you."  
  
She'd made up her mind to be cool and professional with him, but it was hard when he gave her that one-sided grin she found so appealing. "No problem," she said airily. "I hope you enjoyed your breakfast and champagne in a cozy little nook overlooking the river?" She hadn't quite managed to keep the irony out of her voice.  
  
He eyed her as if suspecting her of being sarcastic, but she gave him an innocent wide-eyed smile, and he shrugged. "It was okay, but a bit like a busman's holiday. I would rather have gone to the mountains."  
  
"I'm sure Ranko would have been glad to take you," Marron murmured.  
  
Trunks peered at her. "Are you okay? You look a bit down in the mouth this morning."  
  
Marron punched out a command on the keyboard. "I'm just a little tired," she said, frowning at the computer screen. "I didn't sleep well last night."  
  
"I'm sorry," Trunks said quietly.  
  
He sounded so apologetic she looked up at him. "It's all right, it's not your fault." Not intentionally, anyway, she added silently.  
  
"Well, let's get on with some work, then, shall we?" He took his usual place on the couch and opened his briefcase. "Paresu called this morning. It looks as if I have a new client. I'm going to need to draw up some preliminary plans, and jot down some specs, so I guess we should start off with the dimensions first."  
  
Marron nodded, and pulled up the file. "Okay, I'm ready when you are."  
  
"I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I think we should start at-" He broke off as someone thumped on the front door. "Now who on earth could that be?"  
  
Marron pursed her lips. "Ranko, perhaps?"  
  
Trunks gave her a guilty look. "No, she's gone skiing in the mountains."  
  
"Perhaps it's the woman who was looking for you yesterday," Marron said, suddenly remembering she hadn't told him about his second visitor.  
  
"Hikaru? Er. no, I saw her last night. She came to tell me that she'd taken the Porsche to the office parking garage."  
  
So that was the woman he'd run out on at the hospital, Marron thought, beginning to feel just a little irritated.  
  
The thumping sounded even louder. "Do you want me to get it or shall I?" Marron said grimly.  
  
Trunks looked like a little boy who'd been caught dropping his toy soldiers in the toilet bowl. "I'll get it. It could be Paresu. I told her I'd need my drawing board this week. She might have brought it over."  
  
He limped into the kitchen, and after a moment or two a shrill voice echoed through the kitchen. "Trunks, dah-h-ling, whatever are you doing hiding in this ghastly shack? When Ranko told me I simply couldn't believe it. I just had to come and see for myself-"  
  
Marron stared at the computer screen, trying to stem the misery that seemed determined to engulf her. She should have known better than to get excited about a little kiss, she told herself bitterly. After all, she'd practically thrown herself at him.  
  
She was no better than all these silly women with their breathy voices and heaving bosoms. How on earth could she have thought for one moment that she could interest someone like Trunks Briefs? She had to be crazy.  
  
The voice broke off as the woman appeared in the doorway and stared at Marron. This Barbie look-alike looked painfully similar to the other two. "Oh, sorry," she said, her voice tinged with distaste, "I didn't know you were busy, Trunks. I can't imagine how you can concentrate in this seedy environment." Her look of disdain obviously included Marron in that description.  
  
"This is Marron," Trunks began, but with an abrupt movement, Marron got to her feet, cutting him off.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Briefs, but you mentioned that you needed your drawing board. I might as well go over to your office and collect it."  
  
Trunks looked sheepishly. "You don't have to do that. I don't need it right away and Paresu can bring over."  
  
"I'm sure your secretary has enough to do. I'll be happy to pick it up for her if you'll just give me directions." Marron listened carefully to Trunks' directions; them gathered up her purse and, ignoring the other woman, hurried past him into the kitchen.  
  
She couldn't take another minute of Trunks' women. She needed fresh air, and the privacy of her car in which to vent her feelings.  
  
She pulled out of sight of the houseboat before parking off the lonely road. Then she put her head on her arms and bawled. It wasn't very mature behavior, but she felt a little better by the time she'd spent all her tears.  
  
She took another ten minutes to repair the damage by her venting. When she was reasonably satisfied, she drove into the city to Trunks' office.  
  
Emerging from the elevator on the eighteenth floor of the impressive building, Marron found herself facing a long, gleaming desk where a perfectly groomed receptionist, wearing an expensive blue linen suit, greeted her with a professional smile.  
  
After giving her name and asking for Trunks' secretary, Marron waited while the elegant woman spoke to someone on the intercom.  
  
A few moments later another majestic vision wearing a fabulous white wool dress appeared in the hallway. The stark simplicity of the outfit was broken only by the vivid turquoise scarf fastened at a slender throat with a gold pin.  
  
Of all the women Marron had seen in connection with Trunks, this one was the most stunning of all. Her chestnut hair dipped and waved in curls Marron would kill for, and her beautiful green eyes sparkled in a perfect face.  
  
Marron's spirits sunk to a new low. Of course Trunks' secretary would have to be gorgeous. Just once, she thought miserably, she'd like to see one of Trunks' women with a hair out of place, or smudged mascara, or crooked teeth or something.  
  
Thank heavens she hadn't said anything to Trunks when he kissed her. The only consolation she had was knowing that he'd probably forgotten all about it by now, and wouldn't dream that mousy little Marron Chestnut was breaking her stupid little heart over him.  
  
"I'm Paresu," the lovely creature said, extending a slender hand. "I'm so happy to meet you, Marron. Trunks has said some very nice things about you."  
  
Marron noticed the gold wedding band on Paresu's finger and felt some of her tension easing. "I imagine Trunks says nice things about everyone," she said, trying to put some warmth in her smile. "I've come for his drawing board."  
  
Paresu gave her a sharp look. "Of course. Come into my office and I'll get it for you."  
  
Marron followed her down the long hallway, feeling more and more depressed with every step. Every man they passed looked at Paresu as if she were the first woman they'd seen in months. No one even saw her trailing along behind.  
  
Mot that she wanted any men to look at her, she thought irritably. Only one. And he was the least likely of them all to notice her.  
  
Seated in Paresu's comfortable office, she tried to relax. She had the feeling that Trunks' secretary missed very little, and the last thing she wanted was to let Paresu know how she felt about her boss.  
  
"How is Trunks doing?"  
  
Paresu asked, seating herself at the desk.  
  
She seemed in no hurry to get the drawing board, Marron noticed uneasily. "He's fine," she said automatically, them hastily corrected herself. "I mean, Mr. Briefs is doing very well. The doctor thinks he should be off the crutches in a few days."  
  
"So he told me. That's good to hear." Paresu smiled and leaned back in her chair. "I'm sure he's anxious to get back to the office. I'm surprised he's lasted this long on that houseboat. Everyone figured he'd be hobbling in here on crutches after two or three days."  
  
"Well, he has plenty of company now to keep him happy," Marron said with more than a trace of irony.  
  
"Oh, dear. The social menagerie has tracked him down, I take it."  
  
Marron almost smiled at that. "In droves. I'm surprised they're not all fighting over him with swords or dueling pistols."  
  
Paresu laughed outright. "They must make it difficult to get work done."  
  
"They make things difficult. period." Marron said bitterly. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She did her best to amend her remark, "It's none of my business, of course, but it would make things easier if they'd just leave him alone during working hours. What Mr. Briefs does in his free time is his own business. I mean. it has nothing to do with me. but." Aware that she was just making things worse, she let the words trail off.  
  
"Has Trunks been giving you a hard time?" Paresu asked gently.  
  
Marron gave a ferocious shake of her head. "Oh, no, he's been wonderful. He hasn't complained at all, and he's been wonderful to work for. He took me to see his house, and up to Taurus for a couple of days."  
  
She saw Paresu's eyebrows rise and added quickly, "It was strictly business, of course. He needed to get away for a while, and we had separate rooms and everything."  
  
"I see," Paresu said with a wealth of meaning in her voice."  
  
"No, you don't," Marron argued, afraid she'd given this shrewd woman the wrong impression. "Trunks. Mr. Briefs has been the perfect gentleman. He's always treated me with respect. Just like he would a sister." Except for the kiss, she added silently. And that would remain a secret, locked in her heart forever.  
  
+++  
  
I'd like to thank my friend, Absolut, for making me very happy today. Here's to long life! Cheers!  
  
I had the weirdest dream today. I was going to be a bridesmaid at an orgmate's wedding. But my live-in boyfriend in the dream who was supposed to be my date made a no-show! The nerve! And he had to break the news via e-mail. I was fuming that he'd embarrassed me in front of my friends because even they swear that I'm the pickiest woman alive when it comes to men. So, naturally they wanted to know who I deemed "worthy" enough. I was so mad that I demanded that he hand over the keys to our apartment, the car and about everything else. That still wasn't enough and I had to schedule a flight to LA to make sure that he moved out as soon as possible.  
  
Anyone, know what that dream means? It could be that all these weddings that are going on are freaking me subconsciously. Leona's going to be a bridesmaid in 10 days.  
  
By the way, I keep a dream log. A lot of my stories are inspired from my dreams. They star me (of course!) but for better action, I put Marron instead. I'm already planning the next fic but I still need to research about clothes and stuff. :) 


	19. Coffee breaks

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 19  
  
Coffee breaks  
  
"I'm hungry," Paresu said, glancing at her watch. "How about joining me for an early lunch?"  
  
Marron gave a guilty start. "Oh, I don't think I should. I should be getting back to the River Rat. After all, Mr. Briefs is paying me-"  
  
"You have to eat lunch sometime. I assume Trunks gives you a lunch break?"  
  
"Oh, yes." Marron hastily assured her. "Usually I fix lunch for both of us."  
  
"Ah. I see. Well, it won't hurt Trunks to manage for himself for once."  
  
Marron thought about the snooty redhead she'd met that morning and gave up the argument. "Well, he did have someone with him when I left."  
  
Paresu nodded. "I thought so." She pushed back her chair and reached for her purse. "Come on, I know a great little coffeehouse just around the corner that has incredible desserts."  
  
Marron followed her out, reflecting that Paresu didn't look as if she'd touched anything that contained calories in her entire life.  
  
The coffeehouse turned out to be fairly quiet, probably because they were early, Paresu told Marron as they waited for their sandwich and coffee.  
  
She seemed genuinely interested in Marron's background, and Marron found herself relaxing more and more. She told the attentive woman about her family and the neighborhood she'd left behind in Aquarius.  
  
"You must be dreadfully lonely here," Paresu said when the waitress brought their order. "This is not a big city, but it's big enough to make it tough to meet people and make friends."  
  
Marron shrugged. "I really haven't had the time to get that lonely. I've been busy working, and on weekends I've been exploring the city. There's lots to see and do here. Not like in Aquarius."  
  
"And Trunks has kept you occupied these last couple of weeks, of course."  
  
Marron looked down at her sandwich. "I guess so," she mumbled.  
  
"Marron, there's something I think you should know."  
  
Aware of a cautious note in Paresu's pleasant voice, Marron looked up again. "If you're going to tell me that Trunks could never be interested in someone like me," she said, lifting her chin, "I already know that. I'm not his type. Neither is he mine. I've already told you there's nothing like that between us."  
  
Paresu nodded, her eyes warm with sympathy. "As you've said. But I can't help feeling that you wish things could be different."  
  
Marron stared at her, too miserable to deny it any longer. "I've seen the kind of women Trunks likes. Look at me. I'd never be like them, no matter how hard I tried."  
  
"You don't have to be like them," Paresu said gently. "From what Trunks tells me, you are a warm, generous, compassionate, terribly efficient woman and you should be very proud to be who you are."  
  
Marron felt her cheeks growing warm. "Trunks told you all that?" She said in astonishment.  
  
Paresu nodded. "He did indeed. He thinks very highly of you, Marron."  
  
Marron studied her sandwich again. "But he doesn't think about me the way he thinks about his other women."  
  
"It isn't you, Marron, believe me, and Trunks will never make a commitment of any kind to any woman. There have been a long line of women who've tried their best to tame him. Beautiful, clever, intelligent women who really know how to deal with a man like Trunks. He's rejected every one of them."  
  
"But why?" Marron shook her head. "It's as if he's afraid of settling down with one woman."  
  
Marron took another sip of her coffee and put down the cup. "I don't suppose I should be telling you this, but I think it might help you to understand. Trunks lost his entire family and everything he owned in a house fire when he was only nine years old. I don't think he's recovered from that."  
  
Shock knifed through Marron's heart and she uttered a whimper of protest. "Oh no, how awful. Poor Trunks." That explained his odd expression whenever she mentioned her family. Her heart ached for him, both then and now.  
  
"I believe he's deathly afraid of losing everything again," Paresu said quietly. "That's why he lives every moment as if it were his last. And that's why he can never let himself fall in love with any woman."  
  
Marron felt like crying, for the little boy whose life was destroyed when he was so young, and for herself, for loving a man who could never accept what she longed to give.  
  
"It's just a theory, of course." Paresu sighed. "Trunks doesn't usually talk about it. He mentioned it to me one night when he'd had a little too much to drink. He made me promise never to mention it again."  
  
"I won't say anything," Marron said, feeling as if her heart were breaking in two. "I wouldn't do anything in the world that would hurt him."  
  
"I know that. That's why I told you." Paresu leaned forward, a troubled look on her lovely face. "You're not like the rest of them, Marron. I have the feeling you truly care for Trunks. Not for what he has but who he is."  
  
"So do you," Marron said with a tremulous smile.  
  
"Perhaps, but I'm not in love with him."  
  
"And I am," Marron said, realizing it was true. She had finally fallen in love. with the wrong man.  
  
"I thought so." Paresu reached for Marron's hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "I'm sorry, Marron. The trouble with Trunks is that he'll take dreadful risks with his life, but he won't risk his heart. It's a real shame. He needs someone stable and down-to-earth in his life. He needs someone like you."  
  
Marron wasn't convinced of that. It would seem as if Trunks had everything he needed. He certainly seemed content enough and obviously he enjoyed his life the way it was. He'd found a way to deal with his past, and it worked for him.  
  
She'd been very wrong to try to change him, she told herself as she drove back to the River Rat later. He couldn't change who he was, and she had no right to expect him to give up his lifestyle just because she disapproved of it. Now that she knew about his past, she could understand why he behaved the way he did.  
  
Understanding him didn't help, however, when she returned to the houseboat and yet another angel of mercy opened the door to her.  
  
The tall, willowy redhead looked Marron up and down, then apparently deciding she was no threat gave her a languid smile. "Can I help you? Did you want to see Trunks"  
  
"I'm his temp," Marron said shortly, and marched through the kitchen to the living room. Trunks sat on the couch, looking a little disheveled, she noticed with a stab of pain.  
  
No matter how badly she felt, however, she couldn't despise him for it. He couldn't help being the way he was. She understood that now.  
  
"Where have you been?" He asked in a plaintive tone, as if he'd noticed she'd been gone for most of the morning. "I was beginning to worry about you."  
  
The redhead wandered in and sank down next to Trunks, sitting as close to him as she could get without actually climbing into his lap.  
  
Marron dumped the drawing board on the table. "Paresu took me to lunch."  
  
"She did?" Trunks explained, sounding surprised. "I wonder why."  
  
Marron lifted her chin. "This might come as a surprise to you, but some people actually enjoy my company."  
  
She thought she saw a flash of pain in his eyes, but she was hurting too much to care. It was one thing to know about Trunks' relationships, it was quite another to be falling over them all day long.  
  
Trunks looked uncomfortable. "This is Reena," he said, as if she could possibly care.  
  
Reena flapped a hand in her direction. "I'm hungry," she complained.  
  
Trunks looked hopefully at Marron.  
  
She ignored him, and sat down at the table. She didn't mind cooking for him, but there was no way she was going to cook for his girlfriends. "There's plenty of food in the fridge," she said pointedly.  
  
Trunks cleared his throat. "So what did Paresu have to say? Did she say anything about the new designs we sent her"  
  
"Only that she'd received them. I think she wants to talk to you about them." She opened up the lid of the computer and switched it on. "If you have those specs for me I'll enter them on the file."  
  
"Er.. I haven't had the time to work on them," Trunks said, rather apologetic.  
  
Reena giggled. "I've been keeping him occupied, haven't I, honey?"  
  
Marron carefully closed the computer lid again and stood. "Well, if you don't need me, I'd like to go home. I have a splitting headache."  
  
"You should take something," Reena advised.  
  
"Thank you," Marron said evenly. "I think I will."  
  
Trunks looked concerned and, disentangling himself from Reena's arms, got to his feet. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." Marron nodded at Reena. "Nice to have met you."  
  
"Oh, you too, honey," Reena sang. "I hope your headache goes away soon."  
  
"Don't come to the door. I'll let myself out." Marron picked up her briefcase and headed for the kitchen. She heard Trunks say something behind her, but she didn't stop to hear what it was.  
  
So this was what it was like to love a man, she thought as she drove herself home through the relentless rain. She had wondered so many times what it would be like to really be in love. No one told her that it would hurt so much, and that she would feel so miserable and hopeless.  
  
She wished now that she had never set foot on the River Rat. She wished she'd never signed on with the Guardian Angels Agency. She wished she'd never left her home. She hated Pisces. She hated the rain. She hated herself.  
  
She was in love with Trunks Briefs. And there wasn't one darn thing in the whole wide world that she could do about it.  
  
Trunks closed the door behind Reena and breathed in a sigh of relief. He'd always known that most of the women in his life were shallow and materialistic, but he hadn't realized how much they irritated him until now.  
  
He'd always accepted his friends as they were, neither questioning nor judging their values. But now he was beginning to wonder why he bothered to associate with people who wouldn't give him the time of day if he were poor and actually lived on the River Rat.  
  
That's where Marron was so different. In fact, there were times when he suspected she'd like him a lot better if he weren't quite so successful. Or perhaps the word he was looking for was respect.  
  
She certainly couldn't respect him now, he thought dismally. Not after the stunts he'd pulled lately. He grabbed the coffeepot and thrust it under the faucet. Watching the water gush noisily into the pot, he tried not to think about the hurt expression on Marron's face when she'd left.  
  
He bitterly regretted his attempts to disillusion her. He should have told her the truth. Except that he wasn't sure what the truth was.  
  
He could have told her he wasn't interested in her personally. But then that wasn't the truth either. That was the whole problem. He knew that if he ever let down his guard, he could be very serious about Marron.  
  
There could be no casual relationship with her because she wasn't like the others. Marron made him feel warm inside. She turned the rain into liquid sunshine, and made the ramshackle River Rat feel like a home. He could feel comfortable with her, and infinitely content.  
  
Then again, there were other times when she could excite him and set his very soul on fire, just by a look or a touch of her hand. And all that added up to trouble. It would be all too easy to forget his convictions, and do something stupid.  
  
The cold rush of water pouring over his hand brought him back to earth with a start. He turned off the faucet and tipped the excess water out of the coffeepot. He was beginning to wish that Marron Chestnut had never walked into his life.  
  
No matter what he did now, he'd end up hurting her. And in so doing, he was hurting himself. Unfortunately, there just didn't seem to be any way of avoiding it.  
  
The best way to deal with the situation, he decided, was to make a clean break. It would be painful for both of them, but easier in the long run. He'd explain that he was a confirmed bachelor, that he didn't need a woman permanently in his life, and that while he cared for her a great deal, he could never give her what she needed most. a home and a family.  
  
Having rehearsed the whole speech to his satisfaction, he put out the lights and did his best to fall asleep.  
  
+++ 


	20. Troubled waters

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 20  
  
Troubled waters  
  
Marron woke up the next morning with a heavy heart. She'd spent most of the night wrestling with the problem, and there appeared to be only one answer.  
  
She could no longer go on watching Trunks flaunt his women friends in front of her. She just couldn't work for him under those circumstances. The best thing she could do for both of them was to quit, before Trunks realized how much she cared for him.  
  
She rehearsed her speech in the shower, and all the way to the River Rat. She'd decided the casual approach would work best, and had put on jeans and a white sweater under her jacket.  
  
She needed to feel as relaxed as possible when she delivered her announcement.  
  
Rain pelted the windshield as the car crept along the river path. The wind whipped through the trees, sending twigs and small branches spinning off into the water. Rain clouds hung ominously in the sky, and the air felt unusually warm when she finally halted and climbed out.  
  
Trunks opened the door to her, leaning on his crutch, his face creased with concern. "I wasn't sure you were coming in today," he said, peering past her shoulder at the churning river. "That storm is getting pretty bad."  
  
"It took me longer to get here this morning." He was probably expecting one of his girlfriends, Marron thought, closing her eyes against a fresh wave of pain. The houseboat creaked loudly as she stepped into the kitchen, and she felt a shudder go through the entire structure.  
  
"Damn," Trunks muttered, closing the door with a thud. "The river's really wild out there."  
  
"I heard the news on the way over," Marron said, doing her best to sound natural. "They are really getting worried about the high water. They say the river could go above flood stage this afternoon. All night long they've been asking for volunteers to help build a wall of sandbags."  
  
She avoided looking directly at his face. For one thing, it hurt too much to look at him. For another she was afraid he'd see the misery on her face and guess her secret. Whatever happened, she could never let him know how she really felt about him.  
  
"I know," Trunks said, looking worried. "It doesn't look good. I've never seen the river this high, or running this fast." He limped across the kitchen and went into the living room.  
  
After taking a moment or two to calm her skittering pulse, Marron followed him into the room. He'd leaned his crutch against the couch and was standing by the window with both hands thrust into the pockets of his slacks.  
  
He had his back to her, staring out at the turbulent water outside, his shoulders hunched as if he were cold. He seemed dejected, withdrawn, and she wondered if he'd had a fight with one of his girlfriends.  
  
She longed to go to him, put her arms around him and hold him until he smiled again. She hardened her heart, reminding herself why she was there. "Trunks," she said quietly, "there's something I have to say."  
  
He turned around to look at her, his face wary. "I have something I want to say to you, Marron. Perhaps I should go first."  
  
Whatever it was, it could wait, Marron thought fiercely. If she didn't get it out now, she might break down and give away her feelings for him.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but something thudded hard against the houseboat and it lurched, almost sending Trunks off balance.  
  
Marron felt a spasm of apprehension. She was used to a certain amount of movement on the River Rat, but nothing like this. The whole house groaned in agreement with her as a strong surge of wind shifter it sideways.  
  
"I think it might be better if you go on home," Trunks said. He turned to the window and pulled the curtains back to look out. "That wind is picking up and I'm not sure how well this old tub will hold up if it gets much worse."  
  
"There's something I need to say first," Marron said, feeling a little desperate. "Trunks, I've given this a lot of thought. I think it would be better if I didn't finish out my contract. I really don't- "  
  
The last word sounded more like a yelp as the lights went out, plunging the houseboat into near darkness.  
  
Trunks swore. He dropped the curtain and turned back to face her. At the same time there was a loud crack and the River Rat groaned in agony. The roof creaked overhead, and again something crashed into the wall. Trunks' crutch slid away from him and he made a grab for it. "We'd better get off this thing," he muttered, starting toward her.  
  
Marron was in wholehearted agreement. She could hear the wind outside pounding the rain against the windows, and the entire house seemed to be rocking like a suspension bridge.  
  
She reached the kitchen door and started across. The coffeepot tipped back and forth on the stove, then fell with a crash, sending hot, black liquid across the floor in front of her.  
  
She yelped, and Trunks' anxious voice rang out behind her. "Marron! Are you all right? What happened? You didn't get burned, did you?"  
  
"No, it missed me. It just scared me, that's all." She grabbed a tea towel and threw it on the floor, then leaped over to reach the outside door.  
  
Grasping hold of the handle, she tugged with all her strength, but the door didn't seem to want to open.  
  
"Here," Trunks muttered, reaching her side, "let me open it."  
  
He hauled on it with his free hand and the door flew open, tearing half of the overhead frame with it.  
  
Trunks lurched backward, and Marron grabbed hold of his arm to steady him. "Be careful of your foot," she said anxiously. "It's not healed yet. You could hurt it again."  
  
"You're not telling me anything I don't know," Trunks said grimly. "But I think we have a little more than my ankle to worry about right now."  
  
Marron followed his gaze, and blinked. Something was very wrong. Instead of trees and shrubs overhanging the balcony, there was now a wide expanse of muddy, churning water between the River Rat and the bank.  
  
Not only that, the houseboat seemed to be moving, rapidly and somewhat erratically, down the river.  
  
"We're afloat!" Marron exclaimed in astonishment.  
  
"We are indeed," Trunks said, lurching over to the balcony. "Along with a good many other interesting items."  
  
Marron looked up the river and gulped. Following close to their heels and bearing down on them fast was a tangled assortment of tree limbs, massive rolling kegs, cardboard boxes and what looked like the remains of a broken rocking chair. "What happened?" She asked nervously. "Can we get back to the bank?"  
  
"It's too late for that. She must have broken her moorings." Hanging on with one hand, Trunks leaned out to take a look down the river. "The water must be well above flood stage by now."  
  
Without warning, a huge log smacked into the balcony with a thunderous roar, tearing up the floorboards as it plowed toward them.  
  
"Look out!" Trunks gave Marron an almighty shove and sent her flying back into the kitchen. He fell in with her and slammed the door behind him.  
  
She gasped, and grabbed hold of the stove when the floor suddenly sloped away from her. "Are we sinking?"  
  
"Not yet," Trunks said, pulling open the cupboard doors one by one. "But it's only a matter of time. We have to find something that will float."  
  
Horrified, Trunks watched him search. He had to be joking. They couldn't possibly swim in that raging torrent with all that debris. How on earth would Trunks manage hampered by his injured ankle?  
  
"I know there's something in here somewhere," Trunks muttered, squatting down to look in the lower cupboards.  
  
Marron was about to point out that the only items in the cupboards likely to float were barely big enough to support a cat, let alone two adults, when Trunks let out a deep grunt of satisfaction. "Ah, here it is."  
  
"It," apparently, was a box about the size of a twenty-four pack of beer. Marron eyed it with terrified skepticism. Whatever was in there wasn't likely to be much use out on those treacherous-looking rapids.  
  
Trunks opened the box and pulled out a lump of muddy-looking orange plastic. "All we have to do is blow this up with a blow dryer," he announced, looking pleased with himself.  
  
"How are we going to do that," Marron asked, "when we have no electricity?"  
  
"Ah, that's the good thing about being a constant traveler." He stood the box in his hands. "Battery-powered appliances. The hair dryer's in the bathroom. I'll get it."  
  
"I'll go. I'm a little bit more mobile than you." She was already out of the kitchen as she spoke.  
  
"Watch your step," Trunks called after her. "This thing is breaking up fast."  
  
She didn't need him to tell her that, Marron thought as she clawed her way through the living room to the bedroom. The floor tilted at a steep angle, and one of the chairs overturned as she reached the bedroom door.  
  
"Are you okay?" Trunks shouted, peering at her from the kitchen doorway.  
  
"Fine. Stay there in the kitchen. I won't be a minute." Something cracked in the wall next to her and she leaped for the bathroom. She grabbed up the hair dryer and Trunks' cordless razor, snatched a couple of towels from the racks and fled back to the living room.  
  
The computer landed with a hefty smack on the floor and she winced. She leaned over to pick it up, but Trunks' urgent voice stopped her. "Come on, don't waste time on that. Let's get this thing blown up before we go down."  
  
Making a desperate grab for the computer anyway, Marron straightened and clambered back into the kitchen. Trunks had the dinghy spread out on the floor, and were lowing into the tube, his cheeks puffed out with his effort.  
  
"Here," Marron slid down beside him and handed him the blow dryer. "I brought your razor too."  
  
He gave her a disparaging look. "I don't think anyone will notice if I've shaved or not."  
  
"I thought you might need it later on."  
  
His face softened into a smile. "Practical as ever. Thanks, Marron."  
  
"You're welcome." To get her attention off that smile, she reached for the computer and wrapped it in towels.  
  
"Let's hope the battery holds out long enough to fill this thing up with air," Trunks muttered, fitting the adapter over the dinghy's nozzle. "If not, our lungs are in for a real good workout."  
  
She watched anxiously while Trunks switched on the appliance. The folds of the dinghy gradually spread out and puffed up, while agonizing seconds crept by.  
  
The houseboat lurched again, taking Marron's stomach with it. She felt something cold and clammy beneath her and looked down. She was sitting in a dark, muddy puddle.  
  
"I think we're taking on water," she said, feeling deadly calm all of a sudden.  
  
"Come on, dammit," Trunks demanded, shaking the hair dryer as if that would make it fill up the dinghy faster.  
  
The door flew open with a loud smack, groaning as the hinges were pulled from the frame. The house lurched again, and something crashed in the living room. "She's going." Trunks yelled. "Come on." Abandoning his crutch, he hobbled across the floor, dragging the dinghy.  
  
Marron struggled along behind him carrying the computer, and did her best to help as he struggled to turn the cumbersome craft sideways to get it through the door.  
  
She felt sick when she looked out. The balcony had gone. So had half the wall of the bedroom. The roof hung down in shreds, chunks of it letting go in the force of the wind and flying off to join the rest of the debris bobbing and twisting along in the wild current.  
  
"Come on," Trunks shouted, "I'll hold the dinghy while you climb in."  
  
"No," Marron yelled back. "I can mange easier than you. "I'll hold and you go first."  
  
"Ladies first," Trunks said, "and don't argue or we'll both go down with the River Rat."  
  
Another heartrending groan from the houseboat emphasized the truth of his words. Gingerly holding her breath, Marron threw the computer into the dinghy and stepped after it.  
  
The fragile craft tossed and turned on the water, bobbing up and down like a Halloween apple in a bucket. Kneeling at the edge of the dinghy, Marron held out her arms to help Trunks climb inside.  
  
Without anything to hold on to, he staggered as he stepped off the houseboat, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he would fall into the water, but with a deft hop he landed squarely beside her.  
  
Marron wasn't sure she felt any safer than she had on the River Rat. The houseboat loomed closer, and for a moment she thought it would collide with them and capsize the dinghy. In a desperate move she leaned over and placed her hands on the edge of the broken balcony to give it an almighty shove.  
  
Just at that moment the current caught them, and the dinghy shot away from the River Rat, a little faster than Marron had anticipated.  
  
Trunks sprawled forward on his knees. She felt his hands brush her shoulders as he made a grab for her, and then as if in slow motion, she felt herself falling.  
  
The water came up to meet her, and she closed her eyes as she smacked the surface, then sank into the cold, dark depths of the river.  
  
+++  
  
I'm so glad you like the fic! I just realized that we're sorta near the end now. But don't worry. If you "facking love this," to quote Bloodlust night, you'll adore the next one. No, it's not the one that I still have to do research on the clothes, but another one. I'm sure that LL will love that. I can't stop laughing evilly when I type it. (grins and rubs hands, baddie-style)  
  
From next chapter on, my goddess, Kinomi, will beta for me. Oh, I'm so honored that she has chosen to impart a fragment of her powers on me. All hail Kinomi-sama. (kowtows to Kinomi).  
  
One more thing. No one seemed to notice that all Trunks' women here are also anime characters. We have Ranko, Ranma's supposed female side; Ako, from Project A-ko; and Reena, from Slayers. Well, I only borrowed their names so rest assured that Ranko is really female there and doesn't change with hot water :) .  
  
I don't have anything against redheads. It's just that most "bimbos" are usually portrayed as blonde. Now, that won't do because our heroine here is a blonde. Trust me, I'm not prejudiced against people no matter what hair color they have. Just take a look at my obsession, he has lilac hair.  
  
Thank you for the reviews! Mata ne! 


	21. Drowned

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 21  
  
Drowned  
  
The thundering in Marron's ears deafened her as she went down, arms flailing and feet furiously kicking. Her chest hurt with the cold, and her clothes felt as if they were trying to drag her down to the bottom of the river.  
  
She fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her and tilted her face toward the light above her. Dark shapes swam by, and she tried not to think about what might be in the river with her. Jerking her knees hard, she fought her way back up to the surface.  
  
The first thing she saw when she could finally breathe again was Trunks, his face white and drawn with shock, poised as if prepared to jump into the water.  
  
"No!" She screamed, terrified she'd lose him in that dreadful cold darkness of the river. "Don't jump! I'm here. Help me in."  
  
His arms closed around her, and they felt as comforting and reassuring as the arms of an angel. He dragged her slowly into the wildly rocking dinghy and she clung to him, sobs of relief already shaking her body.  
  
Dimly she heard as siren in the distance, and Trunks muttered, "Thank God." Then she forgot everything except the fact that he was kissing her, with a passion born of fear and relief, and it felt wonderful.  
  
She could have gone on kissing him forever, except the voices yelled to them from the patrol boat that had pulled alongside.  
  
Letting her go, Trunks waved to the uniformed men aboard the boat. "I'm sure glad to see you guys," he called.  
  
"We'll throw you a rope," one of them shouted. "Tie her up, then we'll bring you aboard."  
  
Trunks grabbed the end of the rope as it snaked over to him and quickly tied it to the dinghy. Marron shivered uncontrollably, and Trunks took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.  
  
"All set," he called, and the men pulled the little craft closer to their boat.  
  
"I'll take the computer," Marron said, reaching for it.  
  
"Leave it," Trunks told her, but she ignored him and picked it up anyway. With the heavy machine tucked under her arm she climbed over the edge of the dinghy and into the waiting arms of the patrolmen.  
  
"Be careful," she told them as they prepared to help Trunks into the boat. "He's got a broken ankle."  
  
The burly man closest to her nodded, and grabbed hold of Trunks' arm in his thick fist. "Looks like you two had quite a trip," he said cheerfully.  
  
Trunks nodded. "I've had better," he said feelingly.  
  
"What were you doing on that thing?" The man asked, as the boat took off, towing the dinghy behind.  
  
"My houseboat broke free from its moorings," trunks explained. "We had to abandon it when it started taking on water."  
  
"Well it looks as if you made it just in time," the patrolman said, looking upriver.  
  
Marron turned her head and let out a cry of dismay. The houseboat was half submerged, and sinking lower as she watched. Tears ran down her face, though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was because her short-lived dreams were going down with the River Rat.  
  
All she had left now to look forward to were the memories of Trunks, and those short, final moments in his arms. She wasn't going to delude herself into thinking he meant anything by that moment of passion. He'd been scared for her, and relieved when he'd dragged her back into the boat.  
  
Emotions ran high at times like that, she knew that only too well. Nothing had changed. Trunks would always be perpetually swinging single, always looking for the next dangerous adventure; the next thrill to compensate for the lack of stability a family would have brought to his life.  
  
She couldn't change that. She wasn't even going to try. Better women than she had tried and failed. She would just let him go, and get on with her life. She'd try to forget she was ever in love with a reckless heartbreaker who didn't even know how much she cared for him.  
  
Trunks didn't seem to notice the final death throes of the River Rat. He stood talking to the patrolman, who was taking own notes for his report.  
  
An elderly man with kind blue eyes poured Marron a cup of hot chocolate from a thermos, which she accepted gratefully. "Do you have somewhere to go?" The man asked her as she sipped her chocolate.  
  
She nodded. "That wasn't my houseboat. I live in an apartment in East Hills."  
  
"Well, we'll get you back there as soon as possible. I suggest a hot bath and some dry clothes just as soon as you get there."  
  
Still shaking with cold, Marron agreed.  
  
"What's that you've got there?" The man picked up the bundle of blankets containing the computer.  
  
"It's a laptop," she explained. "I didn't want to leave it behind. It's a very expensive machine."  
  
The man smiled. "Well, right now you need the blankets more than the computer does." He unwrapped the blankets and folded them around her. "There, that should hold you till you get home."  
  
Marron thanked him, then smiled at Trunks, who came over to sit down next to her.  
  
"Well," he said," I guess you knew what you were doing after all."  
  
He plucked at the blanket with his fingers, and she managed a watery smile. "I wasn't planning on wearing them myself. But I did manage to save the laptop for you."  
  
He looked at her, his face looking drawn and serious. "I'm just glad that you are safe. Computers can be replaced. No one could ever replace you, my sweet, practical Marron."  
  
She wished, with all her heart, that he could mean that personally. Determined not to let him see how much she was hurting, Marron said brightly, "Well, we survived, and that's all that matters. I'm sorry about the River Rat."  
  
He shrugged. "Don't be. I'll take the loss off my taxes."  
  
That's all it was to him, Marron thought sadly. Just another tax break. While to her the River Rat would always be the magic place where she learned to love the way a woman loves the only man in the world for her.  
  
Trunks seemed subdued and barely looked at her when they reached the houseboat ramp and were helped ashore. "You'll be all right?" He asked as she stood shivering by the patrolman's car.  
  
"I'll be fine. What about you? You left your crutches on the houseboat."  
  
"I don't think I'm going to need them anymore." He cleared his throat and looked past her shoulder at the little crowd that had gathered to watch the rescue. "I'm on my way to the hospital now so they can take a look at my ankle."  
  
"I guess you'll be going back to the beach then," Marron said, trying to control her voice, which seemed in imminent danger of breaking.  
  
"For the time being. At least until I find another River Rat."  
  
"I guess it's just as well." She gave him a bright smile. "I'd pretty much decided to quit anyway. You didn't really need me anymore."  
  
He nodded, his glance flicking away again.  
  
"Are you ready, miss?" The young man who had been assigned to drive her home looked at her anxiously. "You should get out of those wet clothes as soon as possible.  
  
"You're right." Marron glanced back at Trunks.  
  
He touched his forehead with his fingers and gave her a mock salute. "See you around."  
  
She nodded. "See you." She ducked her head and climbed into the car. She might be going home safe and sound, she thought wearily, but she'd left her heart behind, drowned. Right there at the bottom of the river. And nothing would ever be the same again.  
  
Her misery deepened that night when she saw Trunks being interviewed on the local TV news. He had just emerged from the hospital, without his crutches, and hovering on his arm was Hikaru, or Hikari, whatever her name was.  
  
The reporter asked Trunks about his recent "brush with death," and Trunks made light of it, as usual.  
  
"It was a little tense," he said, his strong profile turned to the camera. "But we were fine once we were clear of the houseboat."  
  
"Is this the young lady who fell into the river?" The reporter asked, gazing in admiration at the smiling woman.  
  
"No," Trunks said shortly. "Excuse me, bit I'm rather tired."  
  
He walked away, leaving the reporter to fill in the details, most of which were exaggerated.  
  
Obviously, Trunks hadn't wanted to talk about her in front of Hikaru. Marron switched off the television, and tried not to think of her former employer being comforted by his circle of admiring women. If that was the way he wanted to live, there wasn't much she could do about it, she told herself. But it would hurt, and she knew it would go on hurting for a very long time.  
  
The end  
  
+++  
  
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. Do you really want it to end here? I'm fine with this. (But then, images of rusty sporks and all sorts of improvised weapons enter the picture.) Ehehehe. *gulps* 


	22. Runaway

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
+++  
  
Helpless 22  
  
Runaway  
  
Two days later she felt well again to return to the Guardian Angels Agency. She wasn't at all sure what she wanted to do next. The thought of moving to another city seemed like the best idea. She didn't think she could stand to open up the newspaper and see pictures of Trunks with his latest conquest.  
  
Ms. Morris greeted her with a look of mild disapproval when she walked into the main office. "It seems as if you had quite an adventure," she said, making it sound as if the entire incident was Marron's fault.  
  
"It got a little tense, for a while, yes," Marron said with supreme understatement. "All's well that ends well, as they say."  
  
"Yes." Ms. Morris looked at her over the top of her glasses. "Fortunately, Mr. Briefs seemed well satisfied with your work. He gave you a glowing recommendation."  
  
Marron's cold heart thawed a little. "How nice of him," she murmured mechanically.  
  
"So now you are need of another contract."  
  
"Yes, if you have something for me." She might as well take another assignment, Marron thought. At least until she'd made up her mind what she wanted to do.  
  
"Here's the address." Ms. Morris handed her a page torn from her notebook. "It's for general office work with computer experience. Are you familiar with the neighborhood?"  
  
Marron looked at the address and shook her head. "I'm sure I can find it, though."  
  
Ms. Morris sighed, and scribbled something down on her notepad. She tore off the sheet and held it out. Here, it's easy to find."  
  
Marron took the instruction and glanced at them. "Thanks, I'll get over there right away." She left, with Ms. Morris' disapproving glare boring into her back.  
  
The woman probably blamed her for sinking the River Rat, Marron thought gloomily as she climbed back into her car. She hoped that Trunks had the houseboat well insured.  
  
Thinking of Trunks violated her promise to put him completely out of her mind, and she concentrated on finding the address of the new client.  
  
The rain had finally stopped, and the sun gleamed on the newly forming leaves of maples and flowering cherry trees when Marron drove up the quiet residential street.  
  
She'd been expecting an office building, and she felt a little apprehensive as she pulled up in the parking lot of Cherry Lane, which turned out to be a small, landscaped square of elegant houses.  
  
She checked her notes again. Mahiwo Katagiri, her new client, lived in an imposing looking house tucked away in the corner. All clients were thoroughly investigated, Ms. Morris had impressed upon her when Marron first signed in with the agency.  
  
Even so, Marron thought as she climbed the steps to the front door, she would have felt a good deal more comfortable if it had been an office building downtown.  
  
If she hadn't been so anxious to get away from Ms. Morris' accusing stare, she'd have thought to ask what Mr. Katagiri did for a living. She could be working for a pimp, or something just as bad.  
  
She rang the bell, promising herself she'd plan an escape route out of there, just in case.  
  
The door opened almost at once, as if the person inside had been waiting for her. Marron opened her mouth to introduce herself, but the words froze on her tongue.  
  
"Good morning," Trunks said cheerfully." "You're right on time as usual."  
  
She stared at him, wondering how she could be having this dream when she felt so wide-awake.  
  
"You're not going to stand there all day on the doorstep, are you?"  
  
He gave her his crooked grin, but knowing him as well as she did, she could tell he was unsure of himself. That didn't happen very often.  
  
"This is your house?" It didn't really matter, except that she couldn't think of anything else to say at that moment.  
  
"I rented it for the time being."  
  
"Then who is Mahiwo Katagiri?"  
  
"My barber. I borrowed his name. He's a nice guy. He won't mind."  
  
She couldn't imagine what this was all about. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to find out. She'd spent a very bad couple of days trying to erase him from her system. Seeing him again like this only pointed how utterly unsuccessful her efforts had been.  
  
She looked down at his ankle. It was the first time she'd seen him in jeans. They were a snug fit, clinging to his long legs and over his slim hips. With them he wore a white sweatshirt with the phrase I'm All Yours! Come And Get Me! emblazoned across the front.  
  
Marron hastily switched her gaze to his face. He was watching her, amusement and something else she couldn't quite analyze flitting across his strong features. "I. er. thought you were working back in the office, now that your ankle is healed," she said, feeling a telltale warmth creeping over her cheeks.  
  
"I am." He stood back and gestured for her to come inside. "I'd like to talk to you."  
  
She eyed him suspiciously. "What about?" If he was going to offer her a job, she thought wildly, she'd turn it down flat.  
  
There was no way she could possibly work for him everyday, watching him flirt with all those glamorous women right under her nose.  
  
"If you'll come in, I'll tell you. I think you'll like what I'm going to say."  
  
"Why can't you tell me out here?"  
  
"Because it's impolite to keep someone talking on the doorstep."  
  
"I don't mind."  
  
"Well, I do. Besides, I have nosy neighbors."  
  
She glanced at her shoulder at the empty courtyard. "Why didn't you just ask me to come and see you? Why all the pretense?"  
  
He gave her a rueful smile. "Would you have come if you'd known it was me?"  
  
She lifted her chin. "Probably not."  
  
"I rest my case."  
  
She stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. Part of her wanted to turn around and turn away as fast as she could, yet another part of her refused to let her move.  
  
"Marron," Trunks said gently, "I'm not going to make you do anything against your will. I doubt if I could anyway. All I'm asking is a chance to explain a few things, that's all. After that, you'll be perfectly free to walk away, and I'll never bother you again. I promise."  
  
She didn't want to hear what he had to say. She didn't want to hear him explain why he couldn't love her, or any woman. She already knew why.  
  
"Please?"  
  
She never could resist that earnest little-boy look of his. She stepped past him, into a narrow hallway papered in a pale cream bamboo design that she liked instantly.  
  
"The living room's on your left," Trunks said, and for some reason her skin began tingling, though she had no idea why. Except that he always had a strange effect on her whenever he was close to her.  
  
The living room was charming; its pale rose walls and long latticed windows gleaming with warmth and light. A white stone fireplace took up one corner, with deep rose cushions piled on either side, and a long, low couch in pale blue graced the far wall.  
  
It was simple, elegant, and essentially Trunks.  
  
"You designed this?" She asked, knowing the answer even before he nodded.  
  
"The whole square. Every house is different. Do you like it?"  
  
"I love it."  
  
"I'll show you the rest of the house if you like. But first we'll talk."  
  
He took her jacket from her, and she sank down on the end of the comfortable couch, next to the fireplace. She could just imagine the flames leaping up the chimney, and the pungent smell of burning logs as they crackled in the grate.  
  
How romantic it would be to lounge on those enormous cushions with Trunks, sipping champagne, listening to dreamy music.  
  
"Can I get you a cup of coffee? I have some brewing in the kitchen."  
  
Startled out of her dangerous daydream, she stammered. "Thanks, I'd love some."  
  
She made use of the moments he was gone to recover her common sense. It was quite simple really. Listen to what he would say, tell him she understood and then get out of there as quickly and with as much dignity as possible.  
  
He came back far too soon and handed her a steaming mug of coffee. The aromatic fragrance soothed her jangled nerves, and she managed to take the briming mug without spilling any of the contents. She took a couple of sips, then set the mug down on the glass-topped coffee table in front of her.  
  
"I saw you on TV," she said, "after you came out of the hospital."  
  
"Oh, that." He screwed up his face in a wry grimace. "All I can say is they must be hard up for news to waste their time with me."  
  
"You could have died in the river," Marron said mildly. "I think that the narrow escape of a person as well known as you is a newsworthy story."  
  
He looked amused. "You do, huh?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"You were the one in danger, not me. I didn't fall in the river."  
  
"I'm not newsworthy."  
  
He must have had a tinge of resentment in her voice. He studied her for a moment, then said quietly, "I kept your name out of it. I didn't think you would want your reputation sullied. As for Hikaru, she heard about what happened on the news. She was waiting for me when I left the hospital."  
  
She didn't answer, the memory of the smiling Hikaru hanging on his arm vividly clear in her mind.  
  
He watched her for a moment longer, then sat down next to her on the couch. "Marron," he said gently, "I have a story to tell you, if you'll listen."  
  
Attacked by a sudden stab of panic, she shook her head. "Trunks, please, there's no need-"  
  
"No- " he held up his hand. "-let me talk. I need to say all this."  
  
She sat very still, her heart beginning to thump. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle this. It was likely to be painful for both of them. She just prayed she wouldn't make a fool of herself in front of him.  
  
"I had a family like yours, once," Trunks said, his voice husky and not too steady. "Two older sisters, one younger brother, the usual set of parents. We lived in a nice house, in a great neighborhood in West City. We were a nice normal family, with a good life."  
  
Knowing what was coming, Marron clenched her fingers so tight her nails bit into her palms. She wanted to yell at him to stop, to talk about anything but the tragedy that ruined his life.  
  
Yet she couldn't. He was right. He needed to talk about it. Why he'd chosen her to listen to his story she wasn't sure, but if he needed her, the least she could do was to be there for him. She'd deal with the pain later.  
  
"The Christmas I was nine years old we had a house fire," Trunks said, speaking slowly and distinctly. "Some lights on the Christmas tree shorted out. I don't remember much about it, mostly just the smoke, the noise, and my mother screaming at me to jump out the window." He paused, staring down at his hands gripped over his knees.  
  
Feeling his anguish, Marron made an involuntary movement, but he started to speak again. She sank back, wishing there was something she could say that would take away the dreadful haunted look on his face.  
  
"What I do remember," Trunks said, "was the aftermath. The sight of the only home I'd ever known smoldering in ashes. Everything gone. My clothes, my books, my toys, my beloved train set, the family dog. and every single member of my family."  
  
She waited, heart thumping, in what seemed an interminable silence while Trunks sat staring quietly into space.  
  
Then just when she thought she could bear it no longer, he cleared his throat. "I was brought up by the only family member who would take me - an aunt, who lived a thousand miles away from the neighborhood where I grew up. She was kind, generous, and she did the best she could. But she wasn't married, and she wasn't too sure how to deal with this lonely, sad little boy who had been more or less dumped on her."  
  
He uttered a sigh that would have broken Marron's heart if it wasn't in pieces already. "I had gone from being a member of a warm happy family to a kid with no friends, or anyone else who was familiar to me. Those were lonely years."  
  
"I'm sorry," Marron whispered, aware of how inadequate those words could be.  
  
Trunks turned to face her, and she saw a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. "Part of that was my fault," he said gruffly. "I crawled into my little hole of misery and stayed there. I wouldn't look back, or forward. I wouldn't le myself get close to anyone, or anything for that matter. I guess I figured what I didn't have I couldn't lose."  
  
She was crying now, big fat tears that slid unheeded down her cheeks. She didn't even know if she was crying for him or for herself. It didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered anymore."  
  
"Marron," Trunks said brokenly, "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, but I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I was blind, and stubborn, and incredibly selfish. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but-"  
  
"Don't," Marron sobbed, unable to bear anymore. "I understand, I really do. I have to go." She started to rise, but he reached out for her, his hands firm on her shoulders.  
  
"I didn't realize the truth," he said deliberately, "until I saw you slip into the water and disappear from view. I thought I'd lost you. The devastation I felt was worse than anything I remembered. I realized then, that I'd already made a commitment to you, without even knowing it."  
  
She caught her breath on a sob and stared at him, afraid to believe what she thought he was saying.  
  
"Marron, I'm a changed man." He took her hands in his and held them to his chest. "I know that I have nothing to lose by loving you. Because, if I let you walk away from me now, I will have lost the only thing in the world that matters to me anyway."  
  
Fresh tears fell from her cheeks and she gulped, unable to say a word.  
  
Trunks leaned closer and peered at her anxiously. "I don't know if you could possibly love a reprobate like me, but I want you to know that I love you enough for both of us. All I'm asking is a chance to prove that I mean what I say. I've given up the old life, and I'm more than ready to settle down. All I need I you by my side and I'll have all the excitement I could ever want or need. Will you give me that chance?"  
  
She nodded, struggling to control the stupid tears that wouldn't stop flowing.  
  
Trunks sighed. "Thank God. I need, Marron. I need your caring, your capable way pf handling things, your common sense, you sweet sense of humor, your delicious cooking."  
  
At least she could laugh, a choked little sound that caught in her throat. "I love you, Trunks. There'll be never anyone else for me."  
  
He was immediately serious again. "Marron, all I want is to make you happy. Marry me, and we'll turn the house at the beach into a halfway home for runaway teens. I grew up without a family, and I'd enjoy having kids around me. It will be a whole new experience for me."  
  
"If I marry you," she said, marveling at the words on her tongue, "you'll have a whole new family."  
  
He looked anxious. "Do you think your family will like me?"  
  
She pretended to think about it. "I think my sisters will envy me. I know my brothers will enjoy telling you how bossy I am, my mother will adore you, and my father." She paused, and smiled up at her future husband. "My father will be proud of the man I chose."  
  
"I hope so," Trunks said, looking so worried her heart melted with tenderness.  
  
She leaned forward and gave him a kiss that took a long time to end. Pulling back from him at last, she said carefully," I might be too busy for a while though, to run a halfway house."  
  
He frowned. "Well, I'll understand if you want to go on working, but-"  
  
She placed a finger on his lips. "I didn't mean that. I meant that I'll probably be too busy raising our own kids for a while."  
  
He didn't need to answer her. His expression of joy and wonder took her breath away. She'd chosen well, she thought as he pulled her into his arms. She'd been wrong. Trunks Briefs was good husband material after all.  
  
The end  
  
Really :)  
  
+++  
  
Masaka! I killed Starlie again! Oi! Live! This is the last chapter, really!  
  
Well, I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I did. I wanted the sad ending but due to popular demand, what I can I say? Now, don't tell me that I don't love you guys.  
  
Thank you for all your reviews. I listed your names in alphabetical order so that it wouldn't seem that I favor some more than the others. (I don't usually lie, but, of course, what writer doesn't like reviews?)  
  
Doumo arigatou gozaimasu!  
  
Aerith Angie Maximillion Asanra Bishounen Chaser Bloodlust Night Carmen Forever Broken i won't tell Jill JoSav Juu Juu 2003 kawaii megami kazeko Kim Hallam Kinomi Kitsune kitty8688/kitty8688 the only Legolas Luver Lia Lily10 Litesea2 marron12 Marron-sk8er-069 punky gal pyromaniac1 Starry-Eyez888 Starlie SsJcHiKa terpischore TM or nothing! Trixie Gal Verci Winged Angel  
  
And the same to all those readers who don't feel like reviewing. I was one of you before too.  
  
I'd gladly give stuff like chocolate ice cream and the like but I can't figure out how to send it over the net :)  
  
Now, that we're finished with the special sappy ending, go on and read Captive. Yeah, that's right. Shameless advertising from me. It won't be as innocent with locked up feelings like Helpless. Why does a certain reviewer that keeps on demanding romance pop in my mind? Hmmm.  
  
Happy reading and see you at the next one!  
  
Mata ne! 


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